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BY LAURENCE GRONLUND 



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" My object is not to make people read, 
But to make them think. " 

[Montesquieu— /S^mi of Laws. 






BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 

New York Charles T. Dillingham 

1884 



0' 



Copyright, 1884, 
By Laurence Gronlund. 



TO 

THE ONE WHO HAS BEEN MOST INTERESTED 

In the progress of my work; 

TO MY SYMPATHETIC WIFE 

I dedicate this book. 



Some of ttie leading ideas of tlie first six chapters of the pres- 
ent work were embodied iu a pamphlet, entitled " The Com- 
ing Bevolution^^^ by the writer of this, which was published in 
1878. It called out, among others, the following endorse- 
ments : 

Office of Bureau of Statistics of Labok, 

33 Pembekton Square, Boston, Aug. 15, 1879. 

* * * "I read your work several months ago and re-read it, 
and made at the close the following note ; 

" ' The grandest and highest-minded statement of Socialism 
I have ever seen.' " * * * Very truly yours, 

(signed.) CARROLL D. WRIGHT. 



" Foremost among all recent publications in America upon 
the subject of social and industrial emancipation of the work- 
ing people, the new pamphlet, entitled: The Coming Bevohition^ 
published in St. Louis, should be read by every thinking man. 
The arrangement is pleasing, while the arguments and lan- 
guage can be easily understood, even by workingmen of lim- 
ited education. 

The National Ex. Committee of the Socialistic Labor Party. 
(signed.) PHILLIP VAN PATTEN, 

Cor. Secretary. 

Cincinnati, Ohio, April 8, 1878. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE, 

To THE Readee. 7 



Chap. I. The Peofit System 12 

Chap. n. Social Axaechy 34 

Chap. HE. The Culmination 55 

Chap. IY. The Spheee of the State 75 
Chap. Y. Expediency of the 

Coopeeatiye Commonwealth 100 

Chap. VI. Social Economy 132 

Chap. YII. Democeacy 

vs, Paety Goyeenment 155 

Chap. YilL. Admenisteation of Affaies 168 

Chap. IX. Administeation of Justice 186 

Chap. X. Woman 201 

Cham. XI. Education 215 

Chap. XH. Moeals 234 

Chap. Xm. The Coming Eevolutton 259 

[5] 



TO THE READER. 



A dialogue on '' Political Optimism" in the Nineteenth Cerir- 
tury for August, 1880, contains the following language : 

"We see that political systems in all progressive societies 
tend toward socialistic democracy. We see everywhere that 
it must come to that. We all of us feel this conviction, or all 
of us, I suppose, who have reflected on the matter. We feel, 
too, that nothing we can do can avert or possibly long delay 
the consummation. Then, we must believe that the movement 
is being guided, or is guiding itself to happy issues." 

This passage may serve as a key to the following pages. 

They have been written that you may see that the social and 
political phenomena in all progressive countries, and particu- 
larly in our own country and Great Britain, are, in a perfectly 
natural manner, evolving a New Social Order, a Social Demo- 
cratic Order, which we have called The Cooperative Common- 
wealth ; in other words, — to speak pointedly, — that Socialism 
is no importation, but a home-growth^ wherever found. They 
are written to give you good reasons for expecting that this 
New Social Order will be, indeed, a " happy issue " to the 
brain-worker as well as to the hand-worker, to woman as well 
as to man. They are written to give reasons for our convic- 
tions that it must come to that, here as elsewhere, within a 
comparatively short period, or to barbarism. 

Barbarism ! — Yes. Let not yourself be led astray by the 
remarkable increase everywhere of wealth on the whole, — 
possibly the under-current is, nevertheless, carrying us swiftly 
backwards. Suppose you had told a Roman citizen in the age 
of Augustus that his proud country then had entered on its de- 
cline, — as every school-boy now knows it had, — he would 
have thought you insane. Now, the many striking parallels 
between that period and the times in which we are living 



8 INTRODUCTORY. 

must have forced themselves on your attention, if you are of 
a reflective turn of mind, as we assume you are. You will 
have observed the same destructive forces to which History 
attributes the fall of pagan Rome busily at work under your 
very eyes. You see the same mad chase after wealth; you 
find everywhere the same deadening scepticism in regard to 
high ideals. You observe in all our centres of activity a cor- 
ruption — I will not say as great as, but — promising in due 
time to rival that of the Roman Empire. Be careful not to be 
too scornful if we prophesy that in, say, twenty-five years from 
now, — if not the Cooperative Commonwealth should then, per- 
chance, be realized — the demagogues of New York City will 
buy voters by free public feasts and theatricals, that you will 
hear the cry of "pawem et circenses " — "give us bread and cir- 
cuses," if you live then ! Indeed, we have already read in 
the N. Y. Tribune : " Every one of our civil Justices has giv- 
en a day's ' outing ' to the wives and children of his district." 
Even now in many of the States wealth seems a pre-requisite 
to the attainment of Senatorial honors and millionaires and 
sons of millionaires are bidding for seats in the lower house of 
Congress. 

But, for reasons hereafter set forth, we do not believe 
our race will return to barbarism. The Roman Em- 
pire was saved from that fate, finally, by being reanimated. 
Our age as fully needs reanimation as the period of the 
Caesars. We shall be reanimated : history will once more see 
Society reconstructed on a new basis. 

Says Huxley : " The reconstruction of Society on a scientific 
basis is not only possible, but the only political object much 
worth striving for." True, emphatically true ! Except so far as 
it is implied in this sentence that any individual or any nation 
can go to work and arbitrarily reconstruct Society on a scien- 
tific or any other basis. 

Socialism — modern Socialism, German Socialism, which is 
fast becoming the Socialism the world over — holds that the 
impending reconstruction of Society will be brought about 
by the Logic of Events ; teaches that The Coming Bevolution is 
strictly an Evolution. Socialists of that school reason from no 



INTRODUCTORY. 9 

assumed first principle, like the French who start from " So- 
cial equality " or like Herbert Spencer, when m his Social 
Statics he lays it down as an axiom, that " every man has free- 
dom to do all that he wills, provided he infringes not the like 
freedom of every other man ; " but basing themselves on ex- 
perience — not individual but universal experience — they can 
and do present clear-cut, definite solutions. 

It is this German Socialism which is presented in the follow- 
ing pages, with this important modification that it has been di- 
gested by a mind, Anglo-Saxon in its dislike of all extrava- 
gancies and in its freedom from any vindictive feeling against 
persons^ who are from circumstances what they are. In the first 
three chapters we present the Socialist critique of the phe- 
nomena of the era in which we are living ; in the next three 
chapters we indicate the coming Social order which will, prob- 
ably, develop itself out of the present system ; in the three 
that follow we outline the political and legal machinery which 
very likely will be found necessary to the working of that new 
order ; in chapters X, XI and XII, we point out the principal 
social effects which may be expected to follow from it, and in 
the last chapter we consider how the revolution — the change — 
is likely to be accomplished in our country and England. 

We believe it is time that a work, containing all the leading 
tenets of Socialism in a concise, consecutive form should be 
presented in the English language— in the language of the 
two countries where the social, and specially the industrial 
conditions, are ripening quicker than anywhere else. Such 
a work, in fact, exists nowhere. Whenever any one now 
wishes to inform himself on the subject he has to wade through 
Innumerable books and pamphlets, mostly German. That such a 
candid man as John S. Mill, who had a truly Socialist heart, did 
not become a Socialist we attribute to this fragmentary shape 
of SoQ»lalist thought, and that in a tongue unknown to him ; for 
his " Chapters on Socialism," published after his death, show 
that he was familiar only with French speculations, of a time 
when Socialism was yet in its infancy. We can dismiss nearly 
all that thus fiir has been written in our language by Socialists 
on the subject with the remark that it is not exactly adapted 



10 INTRODUCTORY. 

to people of judgment and culture. We think that all Amer- 
icans who simply want to be well-informed ought to make 
themselves acquainted with this new philosophy — and Social- 
ism is nothing less than that — which is believed in by hun- 
dreds of thousands of our fellow-men with a fervor equalling 
the enthusiasm of the early Christians. We think they will 
make themselves acquainted with it, as soon as it is presented 
to them in readable English, and applied to American phe- 
nomeaa and American conditions by a writer possessing the 
American bias for the practical. Such Socialism, whether 
true or false, whether destined to be successful or unsuc- 
cessful, is a matter that concerns you personally. 

But if the writer of this work did not hope to accomplish 
something beyond giving some, or even many, Americans 
more correct notions of the aims of Socialists than those they 
have, it would never have been written. We have a deeper 
purpose, far nearer our heart. Most reflective minds, if they 
do not go the whole length of the one who speaks in the dia- 
logue with which we started, do admit that we are at the brink 
of an extraordinary change ; that a crisis of some sort is im- 
pending, no matter if it is likely to burst out now or in ten or 
fifty years from now. We then say that the only thing that 
can save us and our children from horrors, ten-fold worse 
than those of the French Revolution, that can save us from 
the infliction of such a scourge as Napoleon, will be the activ- 
ity of a minority, acting as the brains of the Revolution. For 
while there will be a revolution, it need not necessarily be one 
marked by blood. We hope it will not be such a one : a rev- 
olution by violence is to Society what a hurricane is to a ship 
struggling on the stormy ocean ; it is only by herculean eftbrts 
that we shall succeed in avoiding the rocks and bring it 
into the secure haven, and even then we shall be bat at the 
threshold of our task. 

But, then, we must first have in our country this minority ; a 
vigorous minority, even if but a small one ; a minority of in- 
telligent and energetic American men and women ; a minor- 
ity with sound convictions as to what the crisis means and 



INTRODUCTORY. 1 1 

how it may be made to redound to the welfare of the whole 
of Society and with the courage of their convictions. Such 
a minority will be indispensable to render the revolution a bless- 
ing, whether it comes peaceably or forcibly. Not that this 
minority is to make the coming Revolution — an individual, a 
clique, a majority even can as little make a revolution as the 
fly makes the carriage wheel roll ; the Revolution makes it- 
self or '' grows itself; " — but this minority is to prepare for it 
and, when the decisive moment has arrived, act on the mass- 
es, as the power acts on the lever. To reach and possibly 
win this minority — ^however small — this book has mainly been 
written. 

We shall, for that purpose, address ourselves to the reflec- 
tive minds of all classes, rich as well as poor, professional as 
well as working men — and, indeed, many, very many, literary 
men and women, very many lawyers, very many physicians 
and teachers are just as much in need of this Coming Revolu- 
tion as most working men. But we shall assume, reader, that 
you are not one of those who are personally interested in the 
maintenance of the present Social Order, or rather Social An- 
archijSov then it is hopeless to try to win you over. Very 
likely you will deem it a difficult feat to wm you over, to turn 
you into a Socialist — All we ask of you is with us to view fa- 
miliar facts of life from a standpoint, very dift'erent from the 
one you have hitherto been occupying, to look at them in oth- 
er lights and shades, and then await the resulc. A man is 
never the same any more after he has once got a new impres- 
sion. Much that we are going to say cannot but shock your 
preconceived ideas, but from St. Paul down many have been 
indignant at first hearing what afterwards became their most 
cherished convictions. We shall discard all common-places and 
phrases and throughout be mindful of Samuel Johnson's ad- 
monition : " Let us empty our minds of cant, gentlemen ! " 



THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 



CHAPTER I. 



THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 



" The working class is the only class which is not a class. 
It is the nation. It represents, so to speak, the body as a 
whole, of which the other classes only represent special or- 
gans. These organs, no doubt, have great and indispensable 
functions, but for most purposes of government the State 
consists of the vast laboring majority. Its welfare depends 
on what their lives are like." — Frederic Harrisan. 

"They (Political Economists) are men of only one idea — 
Wealth, how to procure and increase it. Their rules seemed 
infallibly certain to that supreme end. What did it signify 
that a great part of mankind was made mean while even 
more wi'etched than before, provided wealth on the whole 
increased?" — Catholic Quarterly Beview^ Jan. 1880. 

''That the masses of men are robbed of their fair earnings 
— that they have to work much harder than they ought to 
work for a very much poorer living than they ought to get, 
is to my mind clear." — Henry George, 



THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 



13 



We shall commence with an object lesson ; it will consist chief- 
ly of figures, and figures are tiresome things ; — but the lesson 
will be a short one. Herearefour diagrams, — ''cakes" let us 
call them : 



1850. 



Wages for 

957,000 

" hands." 



$ 437,000,000. 



IS60. 


Wages foi 


Surplus, 


1,300,000 




" hands." 


53 per cent. 



$ 805,000,000. 



IS70. 



Wages for 
3,000,000 
«• hands. " 


Surplus, 
53 per cent. 



$ 1,310,000,000. 

I8S0. 



Wages for 



3,739,000 



"hands." 



Surplus, 



48 1-3 per cent. 



$ 1,834,000,000. 

These "cakes " represent the net produce of all manufacturing 



14 THE PKOFIT SYSTEM. 

industries of the United States for the respective years; 
mark ! not the gross value of the products on leaving the fac- 
tories, but only that value which has been given to them in 
the factories minus the wear and tear of machinery. That is 
to say, we have arrived at the above figures by first adding 
the value of the raw materials and the depreciation of all ma- 
chinery, implements and buildings together, and then deduct- 
hig that sum from the value of the finished products. The 
value of the raw-materials used, and the gross value we have 
gathered from the respective U. S. Census Reports, but for the 
estimate of the wear and tear of machinery &c there are ab- 
solutely no data anywhere to be had. We have taken five per 
cent, of all the capital invested in all manufactures in the re- 
spective years as probably a fair estimate of such wear and 
tear, as but a small part of all capital is invested in machinery 
an d implements, where most of the wear and tear occurs. Sup- 
posing that we are somewhat out of the way on one side or 
the other in this guess, it will not materially affect the conclu- 
sions of this chapter. 

Observe, first, that these " cakes" grow at an even and a 
very great rate ; 

The cake of 1850 has a value of $ 437 million dollars ; 
that of 1860 '' " '' " 805 '' " 

that of 1870 (reduced to gold) 1310 '' " 

that of 1880 a value of 1834 " '' 

Observe, next, that these *' cakes " are divided by a vertical 
line into two very nearly equal portions. That to the left was 
paid to the workers in the form of wages; that to the right we 
shall, for the time being, call the " Surplus." 

Note, also, — for we do not want to make facts, but simply 
to declare and explain them — that the portion : wages, in- 
sreases both absolutely and relatively in proportion to the 
number of workers : 

The average wage in 1850 was 248 dollars ; 
u u u u 1860 '^ 292 " 

" '^ 1870, " 310 (gold.) 
u it u u 1880 " 346 '* 

The portion : surplus grows at a great rate : 



THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 15 

In 1850 it amounted to 200 million dollars; 
" 1860 it was 426 *' '' 

" 1870 it was 690 '' (gold.) 

" 1880 it rose to 886 '' '' 

The average " surplus," that is, when divided by the num- 
ber of establishments, was as follows : 
In 1850 it was $ 1,500. 
" 1860 '' '' 3,000. 

'' 1870 it fell to 2,736, because the number of establish- 
ments had nearly doubled. 

In 1880 it rose to 3,490, the number of establishments being 
nearly the same as in 1870. 

Here ends the lesson. It was all figures ; but we should say that 
to a reflective mind these figures are not dumb, but speaking. 

The central point of interest seems to us to be this ''surplus." 
Mow does this surplus originate 9 For to know what a thing 
is, we must know the process of its origin. How come these 
cakes — the net results of our industrial production — to be di- 
vided that way? In order to answer these questions we shall 
have to dissect the system of production which now prevails. 

Take a number of moneyed men w^ho agree to invest their 
superfluities in some industrial enterprise. They come togeth- 
er, form themselves into a joint-stock company and elect of- 
ficers ; such companies, in fact, now own and operate some of 
our largest establishments, and the tendency is that all indus- 
tries of any consequence in time will be carried on by them. 
Suppose then our moneyed men engaged in the cotton, or wool- 
en, or iron and steel industry ; either one of these will 
serve our purpose equally well, as the ' surplus ' was in 1880 
about the same in proportion in all of them. Suppose they 
engage in the making of cotton cloth. None of these men need 
have any knowledge whatever of the work to be done, and as 
a matter of fact the stockholders of existing joint-stock com- 
panies have no such knowledge. They need not know any- 
thing, indeed, except to add and divide — this is not added im- 
pertinently, but simply to emphasize a fact most pertinent to 
our subject. All that they need do is to hire a manager at a 



16 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 

stated salary and place their funds at his disposal. 

This manager then rents a factory — a cotton-" mill " — or has 
one built; goes then into the market and buys spindles, bales 
of cotton, and other machinery and raw materials. All that 
low is wanting is Labor ; but that is also to be found in the 
market — plenty of it. The manager buys as much as he wants 
of it. Note, however, here a difference. The machinery and 
raw material he has to pay for on, or a short time after, de- 
livery ; not quite so with Labor. With that a contract is made 
to employ it for a week or a month at an agreed price, and then 
to pay for it after having used it. 

All these wares — machinery, cotton and Labor — are 
now taken to the cotton mill, where our men with money may, 
if they think fit, look on while Labor spins and weaves the 
cotton into cloth, using up in that process a certain small por- 
tion of the machinery and factory. Everybody now knows, 
that this cloth is not made for the personal use of these mon- 
eyed men or their families — and we shall see in another chap- 
ter that this fact is a truly distinguishing mark of the era we 
are living in — but that it is manufactured wholly for other peo- 
ple whom these men never saw or heard of. This cloth is 
made for the express purpose of being taken into and disposed 
of in the market of the world. For there, all wares, from 
guano to gold, from rags to silk, have one quality in com- 
mon ; that of possessing value. 

Now, please mark that nothing can so effectually kill our 
cause as the successful impeachment of the answer we shall 
give to the question : What is value? or the deductions we 
shall draw from it. Our explanation of what this ''surplus " is 
and what Capital is, hinges on this question, which is, indeed, 
'' Videe mere'''' — the ''mother idea" of Socialism. We shall, there- 
fore, suspend our sketch of the present mode of production, 
in order first to answer it. 

But mark again, our exposition of "value" is none other 
than that of David Kicardo. Socialists regard Ricardo as the 
last political economist who made any substantial addition to 
the science ; the one who, in regard to value and wages, ad- 
vanced it to its highest plane. And it was only after the sup- 



THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 17 

porters of the present social order found out, what use could 
be made of his teachings, that Bastiat and his disciples came 
to their succor and tried to impugn these teachings. We build 
on Ricardo as our foundation. 

To the question then. Bj^ ''value'' we mean value in ex- 
change; we do not mean value in use. or utility, or, what 
seems to us a more luminous name, and what Locke called it : 
worth. The worth or utility of shoes is their capacity to pro- 
tect the feet; their value is what they will fetch in the mar- 
ket, Their value is their relation to other wares, in some way 
or other; is another name for equivalence. 

But relation in what way? Not relation of worths. Worth, 
or utility, is undoubtedly presupposed, but it does not deter- 
mine the value. That will be seen from the lollowing illus- 
trations : 

The reason why a man wants to purchase a pair of 
shoes, is that he needs them, that they are useful, that 
they possess "worth" to him. But their usefulness 
is not at all the reason why he pays $2.00 for them 
He does not pay twenty times as much for them as for a ten 
cent loaf of bread, because they are twenty times as useful to 
him. Why not ? Because the two •• worths " or two useful- 
nesses are just as incomparable as a pound of butter and a 
peck of apples would be. Again, a loaf of bread is '-worth" 
infinitely moi-e to a man who has not eaten anything for forty- 
eight hours than to one who just comes from a hearty dinner; 
yet the former can buy the loaf just as cheaply as the latter, 
value, then, is no relation of *' worths," of usefulnesses. 

Nor has money anything to do with determining values. 
Wares would have value, the same as thej" have now, if all 
money of all kinds were suddenly annihilated. In order to 
eliminate that disturbing factor : money, we shall suppose an 
exchange of goods for goods — pure barter. 

Assume, then, a shoemaker to exchange one pair of boots 
for a coat, another similar pair for a table, a third pair for one 
hundred pounds of bread, a fourth pair for forty bushels of 
coal, and a fifth pair for a book. All these articles are said to 
be equal in value. 



18 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 

But equality presupposes comparison. We only compare 
such articles with each other that are similar. In what re- 
spect, then, are the above articles similar, except that of be- 
ing useful, which we saw was no point of comparison? 
They are dissimilar in regard to the material, out of which 
they are made and the purposes for wiiich they are made. 
They are, on the other hand, similar in this respect that 
they have been produced by human labor, working 
on natural products, which, again, have been won by hu- 
man labor. They have, then, this property in common, that 
they have sprung from Nature, and contain in them a certain 
amount of human labor. Labor is their father and Nature is 
their mother. 

Nature, however, performs her work gratuitously. It must, 
then, be human labor which gives these various articles their 
value. 

That is, also, the teaching of Ricardo. He lays it down as 
a fundamental i)rincij)le, that the exchange values of wares 
the supply of which may be indefinitely increased, (as is the 
case with these articles we enumerated) depend, exclusively, 
on the quantities of labor, necessarily required to produce them 
and bring them to market, in all states of society. In an- 
other place he says: '' In all cases, wares rise in value, be- 
cause more labor is expended." 

These various articles, however, have not only value; they 
were supposed to have equal value, consequently they must 
contain an equal amonnt of human labor. And so it is. 

These amounts are first measured bj^ the time devoted to pro- 
duce these articles. Thus, it is easy enough to say, how much 
bakermg labor is contained in the bread; how much tailoring 
labor in the coat &c. 

These various labors, however, are very different in kind, 
you will say. Undoubtedly. But the difference consists simply 
in being more or less complicated. It takes, simply, more 
time to learn the one than the other. The most complicated 
kind of work can ahvays be i-educed to ordinary unskilled la- 
bor, may always be considered as multif)lied common labor. 
Thus digging is easier to learn than type setting. There is con- 



THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 19 

taiiied in everj'- hour's work of the carpenter a part of the time 
he devoted to learning liis trade. This is still more apparent 
in the literary labor contained in a book. Years may be requi- 
site for the preliminary work, months or even years may have 
to be devoted to special studies, vvliile the mere writing of the 
manuscript may take but a few months. One hour of writing 
may thus, be equivalent to twelve, or many more, hours of 
common labor. 

In this connection Eicardo very pertinently remarks ''I am not 
inattentive to the difficulty of comparhig one hour's labor in 
one employment with the same duration of labor in another. 
But the estimation of different qualities of Labor comes soon 
to be adjusted m the market with sufficient precision for all 
practical purposes " 

But we are not yet ready to define what Value is. Suppose 
one man required twice as much time to make a pair of boots 
as is usually required, and suppose he should then want from 
the tailor two coats in exchange, instead of one, he probably 
would get some such answer as this : ''I don't care how long 
time it takes you to make such a pair of boots. I know, that 
on an average, an average shoemaker can make them in half 
that time, and therefore your labor is of no more value." 
Value is not then determined by the time which this or that 
worker may need. 

Again. Suppose tomorrow a machine is invented and gener- 
ally introduced which will make two pair of boots in the same 
time that now is required for one pair, Then the Value will 
be reduced one-half. 

We, then, define Value as : the quantity of common human 
labor^ measured by time^ which on an average is requisite by the 
implements generally used, lo produce a given commodity. 

We should now go on with our illustration and state the de- 
duction which Socialists draw from the definition just given, 
were it not for some misunderstandings that very likely al- 
ready have arisen in many a reader's mind. 

Thus, one may object: Suppose I find a diamond in the 
highway. Its value is, certainly, far above the trouble of pick- 
ing it up. Does not this show that Bastiat's definition of Val- 



20 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 

ue : that its measure is " the service done to the buyer, in sav- 
ing him a certain amount of effort," is the more correct 
one. AYe answer : People are not in the habit of finding dia- 
monds in the liighways. If tliey were, diamonds would soon 
be as cheap as pebbles. Diamonds will come to the finder dear 
enough, if he were to seek them in Hindostan or Brazil, where 
they are usually found. Remember that the average amount 
of labor is a part of our definition. 

A word more in regard to that theory of '•'' service," which - 
so many reformers in our country have got into their heads 
without knowhig to whom they owe it. Bastiat it was who 
invented that term in order to get over the apparent mischief 
Ricardo's theory worked ; who expressly selected it because 
its meaning was equivocal. Its efficacy lies entirely in the shift- 
ing uses of an ambiguous term. Bastiat's definition really 
amounts to saying, that the value of a railroad-ticket from 
Boston to Worcester is measured hy the time, trouble and ex- 
pense which I may •' save " in not walking or driving that dis- 
tance ! Why, our progress depends on exactly the reverse ! 
On this, that values of articles become constantly less and less in 
proportion to the trouble I should have to undergo in produc- 
ing them by my own efforts ! So that, finally, values and troub- 
les of mine bear no relation at all to each other. 

Again, we shall, of course, be charged with having disre- 
garded the law of Demand and Supply. And yet. we distinct- 
ly mentioned, that we. so far, only spoke of articles that may 
be indefinitely increased. Wares, that cannot be thus increased, 
like rare pictures and wines, and other wares in times of sc;irci- 
ty. have what is called, a '' monopoly value," that is, their val- 
ue is not measured by the labor contained — crystalized — in them 
at all, but by Demand and Supply, exclusively. And even 
with regard to wares that may be indefinitely increased (the 
vast majority of all wares) we, with Ricardo, do not deny 
that '• there are accidental and temporary deviations of the 
actual market from their primary, and natural price." 

That which we lay stress upon is, that the labor expended 
on wares measures, and zs, their primary and natural value. 
Labor expended constitutes, so to speak, then- ZereZ value. De- 



THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 21 

maiid and Supply have, as to those wares, simi^ly the effect of 
making their price (that is, tlieir value expressed in money — 
in gold and silver) vibrate, now a little above, now a little be- 
low that level value of theirs ; exactly as the wind raises and 
depresses the waves in respect to the level of the sea. 

We claim, then :— First, in the words of Ricardo : '^Nature 
by the aid of machinery adds to utilities (to '' Worths ") by 
making society richer; but the assistance which it affords, 
adds nothing to Values, but always makes the latter fall." 
And, on the other hand, that Human Labor and Scarcity create 
all Values. But since it is evident, that Scarcity cannot cre- 
ate anything real, we must conclude that the Values which are 
due to it, are unreal ones ; and that it is human Labor alone 
that creates all real values. [This of course, does not imply, that 
there is not much Labor which does not create any Values at 
all.] So it is not only now, but so it has always been. So it 
will always be under any industrial system. 

We can now return to our sketch. We left the manager hav- 
ing taken the cotton cloth into the world's market for sale. 
Suppose one hundred hours of common labor (that is, the un- 
skilled labor to which, as we have seen, all skilled labor can 
be ultimately reduced) necessary, under the prevailing mode 
of production, to make this cloth, and another hundred hours 
of common labor requisite to produce the bales of cotton and 
that part of the machinery which has been used up, then the 
value of the finished cotton cloth is two hundred hours of 
common labor. That is, thej^ will exchange with that amount 
of labor crystallized in any other ware. Suppose they are ex- 
changed (disregarding for the moment the oscillating influ- 
ence of Demand and Supply) for an amount of gold, embody- 
ing two hundred hours of common labor. That gold is then 
taken to the office of our company. 

But, since equal amounts of labor are exchanged, why do 
these moneyed men engage in this operation? Do they do it 
for fun? 

Not a bit of it. We have now arrived at the Social- 
ist deduction which is drawn from our definition of value^ 



22 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 

and which made it so important, that it should be thormighly 
understood. Our moneyed men first deduct from that heap 
of gokl lying before them their outlay for raw materials and 
the wear and tear of machinery. The balance — the ''cake-' 
in fact — they divide into two, let us say, equal portions. The 
one portion they give to Labor, and the other — ? 

Remember that we stated, that there is plenty of labor in 
the market. Labor now-a-days is a ware. Being a ware it 
possesses both Worth and Value. Its worth is its ability to 
produce our '' cakes '' — Values. Labor creates these. And its 
(labor's) Value is precisely what the value of other wares is : 
the amount of common human lahor^ necessary to '' raise ''''and 
maintain a laborer^ in the manner customary at a given time 
and in a given country. 

Labor as Ricardo says, " has its natural value — depending 
on the price of necessaries — and its market price," vibrating 
above and below the former. The laborer, in other words, 
must sell his labor for wages, now a little above, now a little 
below what it costs him to live and bring up his fanlilJ^ 

That which we have hitherto called *'the surplus," then 
arises, because the laborer gets only about half of what he 
produces. And what becomes of it? Fancy these moneyed 
men reasoning to themselves : ' • True, this surplus is the prod- 
uct of our Labor, but didn't we agree to pay a stated price for 
that; and haven't we paid it? True, also, that we have done 
nothing but going through the effort of hiring our manager 
and looking on. Never mind! we call it profit.''' That name 
they give it and put it into their j^ockets. 

From this point we have no more use for the vague word 
" Surplus " ; w^e are now entitled to call it by the appropriate 
name: Fleecings. If there was an English word for the 
process of abstracting honey from the bees, w^e should prefer 
that, for the process of pocketing the proceeds of Labor is also 
a stealthy one. Let it, how^ever be distinctly understood that 
in adopting this word *' fleecings" we have not the remotest 
idea of reflecting upon persons ; we use it, and shall use it 
repeatedly, to condemn as impressively as possible the system 
which allows and sometimes compels one class of men virtu- 



THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 



23 



ally to say to another class : '• If you will work five hours a 
day for us gratuitously, we will enable you to work the other 
five hours for yourselves " — that is, to condemn the Profit Sys- 
tem^ the Wage-System. Observe that we said " one class 
of men." For, while in our illustration we assumed that the 
owners of the cotton mill had all the means, needed for their 
enterprise, we know that in many cases employers have to rent 
laud on which to huild their factories and to borrow money to 
defray their expenses. Such employers, of course, do not put 
all the fleecings into their own pockets, but have to divide with 
land owners, bankers and other '■'•gentlemen at large." But 
the fact is — and on that it is we lay stress — that the workers 
receive only about half of what they produce, just enough to 
keep up life and strength and bring up a new generation of 
laborers, while the other half stealthily passes into the pock- 
ets of quite another class of men. 

Now we can illustrate our " cakes," so that they present 
this appearance : 

Values for iS6o. 
Values for 1S50. 




$ 437,000,000. 
Product of Labor. 



Wages. 


Interest. 


Profit. 


Rent. 



$ 805,00^,000. Product of Labor. 
Values for 1870. 



Wages. 


Interest. 


Profit. 


Rent. 



$ 1,310,000,000. Product of Labor. 



24 



THE PKOFIT SYSTEM. 



Values for iSSo. 



Wages. 


Interest. 


Profit. 


Rent. 



$ 1,834,000,000, Product of Labor. 

Here also is the place to note the answer to another ques- 
tion which the object-lesson may suggest : What is the 
average amount which the employing class fleeced from each 
worker during the respective census years? 

In 1850 it amounted to $209.00 ; 
'' 1860 it was 327.50; 

'' 1870 it rose to 345.00; 

" 1880 it dropped to 323.50. 

By the way, we ought here to remark that it will not do to 
trust implicitly these or other calculations that might be made 
on figures in the Census Reports (remember it is the employ- 
ers who have furnished all data) ; especially is a comparison 
of one census year with another liable to be very misleading, 
since one Report differs materially from another both in meth- 
od and accuracy. But these Reports are of great service, 
when only, as here, a rough, approximate idea of the reality 
is required. 

We then find that in 1880 — a fairly prosperous year, as all the 
above census years were, compared with our years of dis- 
tress — the employer paid the worker on an average $346 in 
wages and fleeced, on an average, from him the sum of $324. 
That, perhaps, to many docs not seem extravagant. 



THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 25 

But lie who employed 10 workmen gained $3,240 

.; .. .. .. 25 '' '• 8,100 

'• '' '^ '' 50 " " 16,200 

'' ''- '' "■ 100 '' '' 32,400 

" " '^ '' 500 " " 162,000 

" '' '' '' 1000 " " 324,000. 

T^ree Hundred and Twenty-four Thousand dollars this latter 
employer gained, fleeced, '•accumulated" (mark) ! in one 
year ! For what ? what had the workers in return ? The priv- 
ilege each to earn three hundred and forty-six dollars I The priv- 
ilege to use the soil, the machinery and all the resources of 
our civilization, which this employer possesses! 

It is on purpose that we so far in our exposition have avoid- 
ed to use the word " Capital." Political Economists have sur- 
rounded this category with such a hazy atmosphere that the 
word now denotes a good many things. Yet, the question : 
What is Capital? is of fundamental importance and relates to 
the whole structure of our present Social order. We want 
that question answered, and the preceeding pages, indeed, 
have been written for that purpose. But we are not concerned 
about the meaning of the word — throughout this work we care 
for the essence of things and not for the definition of words. 
By '' Capital " w^e mean what in popular speech is meant. 

He is called a '' capitalist " who possesses w^ealth which 
brings him an income without any work on his part. True, 
many capitalists do some work of one kind or another, but 
the remuneration they receive for that work has nothing to do 
with their incomes as ''capitalists" ; these latter are something 
over and above such remuneration. We, therefore, mean by 
"•' Capital " : that part of wealth which yields its possessors an 
income without work. But we are just as willing to adopt the 
definition of some Economists, that Capital is "• the part of 
wealth which is employed productively with a view to profit by 
sale of the produce," for it is only by being thus employed, 
that it yields an income. 

The question, then, which we are now intent upon finding 
an answer to is : What is the nature, the essence of that which 



26 THE TROriT SYSTEM. 

we have agreed to call '• Capital "? We want to hnoin it, and 
therefore must learn the process of its origin. That is a com- 
paratively easy thing to us who already know the origin of 
the " Surplus." Simply observe what our moneyed men, the 
operators of the cotton mill, are doing. They add their flee- 
cings to what wealth they had already, and make that increased 
wealth pass through such another operation as w^e already 
have described. The oftener they do that and the more op- 
eratives they employ, the more surplus labor their wealth ab- 
sorbs. Now we have " Capital^'' and " Capitalists.'''' It is 
these fleecings which, absorbed by wealth, turns it into '' Cap- 
ital," and the pocketing these fleecings turns wealthy men in- 
to '' capitalists." 

Note, " Surplus'''' is the same as " fleecings," is the difference 
between the price of Labor and the price of Labor's produce.^ is 
the latter minus ( — ) the former. 

Capital is the original little amount of wealth with which our 
employers start — v/hich they may and may not have earned — 
plus (+) the sum of surplus values; is accumulated fleecings — 
accumulated withheld wages. 

Therein consists, really, the so-called "productivity" of 
Capital: in possessing the spongy capacity of steadily going 
on absorbing surplus labor. This capacity distinguishes it 
from all other wealth (which other wealth the old Economists 
called, very happily Bevenue.) Far be it from us to deny the 
invaluable assistance which Capital renders to Labor. But 
Capital produces no Values whatever ; it enables Labor to be 
immensely more productive, that is all. 

We have now reached the very core, the grand secret of the 
present mode of production. This fact, that such a thing as 
''Capital" exists, that it is acquired and increases, legiti- 
mately^, by fleecing those in its employ by the wage-system — 
a fjict, unknown to all former periods — is the one characteris- 
tic mark of this era ; wherefore it may with propriety be des- 
ignated : the Capitalist era. 

We took our illustration from the manufacturing industries. 
The same lesson however, might have been equally well drawn 
from agriculture, to the extent that the cultivator of the farm 



THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 27 

or plantation employs wage-laborers. And we arrive at the 
same results, if we direct our attention to the legitimate com- 
mercial enterprises. For commerce, — legitimate commerce — 
is an industry, and a productive industry. The labor of those 
engaged in causing the clotli of the cotton mills of New Eng- 
land to be transported to tlie heart of our continent and in 
their handing it out in small pieces to consumers creates an 
additional value in these pieces as fully as the laboi- of the 
operatives creates value. But here, also, the profits which 
swell the fortunes of our merchant '■ princes'" are not the 
result of their labor, but fleecings, exactions, from the labor 
of their employees. The scores of millions of an A. T. 
Stewart were the result of the work of thousands of his fel- 
low men — fleeced from them by the process, already described. 

Thus in all industries, manufacturing, mining, agricultural 
and commercial, the legitimate fleecings which go to make 
up Capital, come out of the producers — we say legitimate fleec- 
ings, following naturally, as they do, from the wage-sys- 
tem. They are all fleecers, whether it be the capitalist who 
joins millions to his millions, or the workingman who brings 
his hard earned earnings to the bank for the sake of the in- 
terest. One is not better than the other. We do not blame 
either ; they simply conform to the system w^e are living un- 
der. But we claim, that in this difference between wages paid 
and the proceeds of Labor, in this little fold lies hidden the germ 
of all profit^ interest and j'ent, of all pauperism and of nearly all 
modern crime. 

Now we can justly estimate the accounts which recent econ- 
omists have given us of Capital. Some, with the evident de- 
sign of drawing their attention away from the fleecing process, 
seek to confound men's minds with most reckless definitions. 
When in popular speech knowledge and skill are called '' Cap- 
ital," every one is aware that it is a metaphor. But when 
economists gravely apply that term to such acquisitions, to 
the wheel-barrow of the day laborer and the wooden horse of 
the wood-sawyer, then we have a right to dismiss them, some- 
what contemptuously, with the remark, that in such case we 
are all, indeed a band of brother capitalists — since everybody 



28 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 

has, at least, got a coat to his back — such as it is; — hut then, 
also, we have amongst us a great many starving -^capitalists." 
Then the German economist who claims the title of '• capital- 
ist" for the bear who goes into winter quarters with lots of 
fat on him is no wit after all, but a sober truth-teller. 

Others, again, J. S. Mill among them, attribute capital to 
saving. The tendency of such an account is equally obvious. 
It insinuates, that capitalists are a highly deserving class of 
people, indeed, since it is due to their abnormal, unselfish ** ab- 
stinence," that we have any Capital at all ! 

Well, all that we have is either consumable or inconsuma- 
ble. The consumable goods like grain or meat — cannot be 
'•'' saved" for any length of time; they must be consumed, or 
they spoil ; the capitalists therefore only save here in the same 
way that soldiers '' save " the chickens from being eaten by 
the enemy. The inconsumable things, like machinery, leath- 
er, coin — must be *' saved" anyhow, since they cannot be de- 
voured. And if it is any merit in capitalists, that they have 
" saved" z, e., not devoured these, why — then it must be ac- 
counted them a merit, we suppose, that they have "saved" 
the very earth, or the moon, since they have not consumed 
these as yet! " Saving," therefore, is absolutely inappropri- 
ate here, as it properly means the accumulating such thing 
which might have been consumed. 

Much more to the point, therefore, is that other stereotypic 
definition of Capital, that it is '" accumulated Labor." Yes it 
is; but why then do those who work most not '' accumulate " 
Capital? Ah, nothing is so dangerous as a truth in a delusive 
dress. This definition omits to state, who does the laboring 
and who the accumulating. What a heaven-wide diff"erence 
there is between the two activities, we have already noted. 
But the definition by that very omission, though it looks so in- 
nocent, insinuates that Capital at large is formed by wage- 
laborers laying up their earnings, and that in that way they be- 
come the capitalists. This insinuation is, to speak emphati- 
cally, a falsehood. The first thousand dollars may sometimes 
be formed in that way ; the following millions — never. It is 
simply impossible. Let us suppose a laborer earning $2.00 a 



THE PKOFIT SYSTEM. 29 

day — a good deal more than the average wage — that he works 
steadily along, that he never loses a day's work, that he is 
never siek, that he lives like a Chinese, and thus is able to save 
up half of his wages : $^ .00 a day. It will take him more than 
3000 — Tliree Thousand — years to accumulate a million ! It is 
this contemiDtible jugglery with words that the Socialist cri- 
tique unmasks. 

Now, furthermore, we can understand one very curious phe- 
nomenon, to wit: how it comes that the charging of interests 
was, until not so very long ago, considered infamous, while 
now it is considered the most natural thing in the world? A 
conscientious man, like Jeremy Bentham. wanted even to make 
it out to he one of the '' natural rights of man." The reason 
of the change must lie in the nature of things. 

The common arguments in favor of interest are transparent- 
ly flimsy. They say, interest is a reward for abstinence. We 
have already seen what kind of abstinence that is, — that of 
not devouring gold coin and locomotives. But even if the 
capitalist were abstinent, why should he be especially re- 
warded for it by an increase? The apple which the boy ab- 
stains from eating before going to bed does not grow bigger 
during the night — the boy's " reward " consists in his having 
his apple the next morning. The German economist. Prof. 
Roscher, is honest enough to admit : '' Rent is an aiDpropria- 
tion of the gifts of nature, and interest, at best, a further fruit, 
obtained by frugality, from older labor, already remunerated." 

That other argument, that interest is the payment of a ser- 
vice rendered by the lender to the borrower is not better, for 
the service is reciprocal. The borrower preserves the capital 
for the lender; no slight service, since most capital will decay 
when not in productive use. Socialists give the only satisfac- 
tory explanation, and here it is : 

The Roman Jurists used to say : •' What is mostly done 
governs all other cases." In former times when people bor- 
rowed money, they generally did it, because they were in dis- 
tress, and it was, very naturally, deemed disgraceful to take 
advantage of another's misfortunes. The law and the Church 
therefore, denounced all interest as usury. But now-a-days 



30 THE PEOFIT SYSTEM. 

a i^erson generally borrows money, in order to ''make "mon- 
ey in the manner we have described. The ''tronble" he is 
in, is the trouble how to get rich, — and the capitalists like to 
share that trouble with him. Interest, now, is notliihg but a 
I)art of the fleecings, nothing but a fair division — therefore 
proper. 

Now we can fitly cliaracterize the '' harmony," the '' part- 
nership " — compared to that of the Siamese Twins — between 
Capital and Labor, about which our comfortable classes talk 
so unctuously. 

•"' If there be in this world a partnership betw^een men which 
is natural, wise and useful " exclaimed lately Iloscoe Conkling 
in one of his efforts, '' it is the partnership between Capital 
and Labor." 

Indeed, Capital and Labor are just as harmonious as roast 
beef and a hungry stomach. There is the most beautiful har- 
mony, the most natural partnership, between the two — when 
they are united, in one hand. But what another contemptible 
juggling wdth words we here have! As if there were no dif- 
ference at all between Capital and individual *• capital — ists\ " 

Labor, indeed, could not get along very well without Cap- 
ital. But we are not so sure, that our w^orkers would not get 
along tolerably w^ell, if some beneficent spirit should take 
all our capitalists and carry them up to some other planet, say 
Venus ; especially if they had to leave their Capital behind them. 
And, after all, they might take their Capital along with them 
— what they could carry away — for Edward Atkinson has told 
us that we should all be starving within one year, naked with- 
in three, and houseless within ten years, if Capital was not 
constantl}^ being re-created by Labor. 

The beautiful harmony between capitalists and laborers is 
happily illustrated by Carlyle in the address of Plugson, the 
manufactarer, to his workmen: 

"Noble spinners! We have gained a hundred thousand 
pounds, which is mine ; the three and sixpence daily was yours. 
Adieu, drink my health with this groat each, which 1 give 
you over and above." 



THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 31 

There is, as a matter of fact, c/zs-harraony between Labor, 
reduced to a ware, and Capital, whether in the form of grain, 
or meat, or stone, or metal, or wood, or clay which is labelled : 
'• hands off ! " There is, as a matter of fact, discord between 
the worker — to whom nothing is coming beyond necessaries 
and decencies of Hfe; to whom even the most loathsome and 
irksome labor does not insure subsistance ; who is not benefit- 
ted by his own increased capacity of production ; who is far 
from becoming richer the more he w^orks — and the capitalist 
who, contrariwise, becomes.richer the more the workers toil 
for him ; who is constantly being immensely benefited by ev- 
ery increase in productive capacity. Insteadof harmony there 
is, as a matter of fact, more than discord; t\iQVQ\s>Vi. chronic war- 
fare between Cai^italists and Laborers, and as an evidence of 
it we point to — Strikes. 

Capital and Labor Siamese Twins! Are capitalists and la- 
horers Siartiese Tivins? Why? Becausethey are in contact with 
each other? So are the horse-leech and its victim. 

Socialism has a serious dispute with Political Economy, or 
rather with its present teachers. The founders of the science 
taught many truths ; truths which we acknowledge and on 
which Socialism, indeed, builds. But its professors claim that 
it tells nations how to become prosperous. It does no such 
thing. It tells individuals how to get rich : and it has found 
apt pupils in every civilized country. The wealth of the 
civilized world is incredibly large and increasing at an incred- 
ible rate. Its present magnitude may be appreciated from the 
fact, that the wealth accumulated in England during the j)res- 
ent century is far greater tlian all the wealth accumulated dur- 
ing all previous centuries. Or to come down to figures ; The 
wealth of the United Kingdom was : 

In 1800 JSTine Thousand Million Dollars ; 

In 1840 Twenty " 

In 1860 Thirty •' " " 

In 1880 Forty-five^' '' '^ 

Could human efforts have accomplished more. But is this 
enormous Wealth '•''National wealth," as is pretended? 



32 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 

What part have the beggars in the streets of London in it? 
What part have the British workingmen, who created this 
wealth, in it? We shall see. 

The whole income of the British Nation in 1879, amounted 
to 5,325 million dollars, distributed as follows: 

The working-classes (12 million persons) had 2,140 million 
dollars, or $ 178 to the person ; while all others (3 million per- 
sons) had 3,185 million dollars; of the latter, again a little 
over 9,300 individuals had §100,000 apiece. One hundred and 
seventy-eight dollars a year — that, then, is the share of the 
British worker in the '' National" wealth. * 

Our Political Economists are yet more guilty. They make 
their science sanction our present industrial arrangements, in- 
stead of explaining them. They virtually teach that, be- 
cause things are as they arc, they will always remain, and 
ought always to remain so. Socialists, or Social — Econo- 
mists, as they might call themselves, use the truths of Po- 
litical Economy to prepare for a higher stage of development, 
show the workers that though now 

" The seed ye sow another reaps ; 
The wealth ye find another keeps ; " 

it will not always be so, and urge that a Social Order which per- 
mits certain individuals to appropriate the withheld wages of 
generations of weary workers ought not to last. 

The first lesson of Socialism, then, is that the Wage-System^ 
the Profit-Sj^stem, the Fleecing-System, is utterly unfit for 
a higher civilization. 

'* But you are not fair. You have entirely omitted to state 
that these individuals do contribute to the size of your '• cakes.' 

*Do not jump at the conclusion, that because the British 
workingman is paid |;178 a year and the American §346, that 
therefore the latter is twice as well off" as the former. In 
England a given sum may go twice as far as bore — for many 
reasons, one of which is tnatthe" store-order ''sj'^stem, so ex- 
tensively practised here, is in England sternlj-' forbiden by 
law. 



THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 33 

They direct all these enterprises, a work of considerable impor- 
tance." 

Granted. They do direct, or see to it that somebody directs. 
But is half the cake not a pretty dear price for overseeing 
its baking? Could not that work be done in some other 
way, just as well and somewhat cheaper? 



CHAPTER II. 



SOCIAL ANAKCHY. 



'•'•We all can see that there are all over our country energies 
which can find no employment or, at all events, minds which 
are cruelly compressed into duties far too narrow, and, on the 
other hand, work which remains undone for want of adequate 
energies, because no systematic attempt has yet been made to 
estimate the real needs of the social organism and to distrib- 
ute its forces in accordance with them. — There is no organic 
adjustment any where." — The '-'■ Value of Life,^^ an American 
worlv, anon. 

''Competition gluts our markets, enables the rich to take ad- 
vantage of the necessities of the poor, makes each man snatch 
the bread out of his neighbor's mouth, converts a nation of 
bretliren into a mass of hostile, isolated units, and finally in- 
volves capitalists and laborers in one common ruin." — Greg. 

"•It is not to die, or even to die of hunger that makes a man 
wretched; many men have died; all men must die. But it is 
to live miserable, we know not why; to work sore and yet 
gain nothing; to be heartworn, weary, yet isolated, unrelated, 
girt in with a cold universal Laissez-faire.^^ — Carlyle. 



The vp^age-system may be said to be of vital interest only to 
the wage- workers. They are a considerable part of the na- 



SOCIAL ANARCHY. 35 

tion. They include not only the operatives in our factories 
and mines, but the whole army of railroad employees, all hired 
men on farms, all clerks engaged in stores and mercantile es- 
tablishments; all. in fact, who help to create Values and re- 
ceive a stated salai-y. And if not their numbers but the Val- 
ues produced by them constitute the measure of their impor- 
tance, they will be found very much to overbalance our inde- 
pendent farmers. The whole agricultural class (7,600.000 per- 
sons.) indeed, did not create more wealth in 1880 than our 
manufacturing operatives alone (2,700,000 in number.) But 
though the wage-workers are an important fraction of our 
population they, nevertheless, are but a fraction. If Socialism 
had regard to them only, it were nothing but a cZass-move- 
ment. 

We claim there is a something-wrong in Society which vi- 
tally affects the whole nation and every individual of it. In 
prosperous years it may not obtrude itself on the attention of 
thoughtless people, but let ••' hard times " come on, and it 
makes everybody feel uneasy. What is this '' something- 
wrong " ? Socialists say that it is nothing less than the meth- 
od, the policy, which governs all activities of the principal 
nations of our time. It is spreading itself in Catholic socie- 
ties, and tnroughout the whole world, but it arose in Protes- 
tant countries. It is, in fact, simply the exaggerated form of 
one of the principles of Protestantism : the independence of 
the individual; which exaggerated individual independence 
we can properly call : Individualism. We can also call the pol- 
icy : the '' let alone " policy; its admirers give it a more eu- 
phonious name : Private Enterprise. 

Let alone whom — what? 

In the middle ages the feudal barons created castles, from 
which they issued forth with their retainers, when they espied 
merchants and adventurers approaching on the contiguous 
highways laden with wealth, stopped them — and levied tolls. 
All that these barons desired was to be "let alone." In our 
age it is the spiritual descendants of these merchants and ad- 
ventm-ers who have grown powerful, fattened on '' fleecings." 
They in their turn demand to '' be let alone; " they demand 



36 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 

that society shall be an unrestricted hunting ground for their 
'' enterprise." They are let alone; we shall now note mth 
what results to the different classes of society. 

Before our present industrial system got into full swing — 
that is, before the power of steam was utilized— the master- 
workman was an adept in his trade and owned his tools and 
the raw-materials he used. This is all now changed. The work- 
man is now divorced from his implements and raw materials 
which have got under the complete control of the capitalist 
class ; he now has nothing left but his naked labor. This it 
is, again, which enables employers to buy labor in the market 
for a price much below the productivity of that labor; that is 
at a value much below its worth. 

This monopoly has made employers into a class of autocrats, 
the laborers into a class of dependents — of hirelinys. As 
Jesse Jones says In tbe ^'International Eeview," of October 
1S80 : " A class is fixed, when nine-tenths of those comprising 
it can never get out of it. * * * Why mock workingmen by 
putting rare exceptions for a general rule ? " 

The laboring men are dealt with by our managers as mere 
tools. They are spoken of as tools, as thmgs. This humani- 
tarian age counts steers and sheep by " heads " and the work- 
ers by "hands.'''' A pity God did not make them only '' hands ! " 

It is a paltry evasion to say, that the workers are free to con- 
sent or to refuse the terms of the employer. It is an evasion 
worthy of the man who asked permission of the Virgin to rob 
her of her necklace — and then did it, taking silence for con- 
sent. The Laborers have to consent. If they refuse the terms, 
capitalists simply stop business ; they can stand it. " Hard 
times " are really only hard on those whose subsistence de- 
pends on having work to do. The wives and daughters of 
capitalists do, as a rule, not leave off during '' hard times " at- 
tending operas in their silks, satins and diamonds ; do not, as 
a rule, quit their luxurious brownstone-f ronts or dismiss their 
liveried servants. 

Henry George in his " Progress and Poverty" epitomizes 
the position of our laborers as follows : '' Compelled to more 



SOCIAL ANARCHY. 37 

coutiuuous labor than the savage, the laborer — a mere link in 
au enormous chain of producers and consumers, heliDless to 
separate himself and helpless to move, except as they move 
— gains the mere necessaries of life, just what the savage gets 
and loses the independence of the savage." He has indeed 
lost the independence of the savage. The irregularity of his 
employment, the frequency with which he is out of work, is 
the most alarming feature of the workingman's condition. And 
that irregularity is often, very often, x)urposely brought about 
by the employing capitalist class. For instance, in order to 
put up the price of anthracite coal, out of twenty-four work- 
ing days of a certain month nine w^ere made idle days by the 
coal companies of Pennsylvania. The mining was interrupt- 
ed to limit supply and the miners were left to do the best they 
could with work for two days out of every three. 

This condition has been rendered yet enormously more pre- 
carious by the remarkable industrial inventions of the age. 

These victories oi man, of Society, over Nature's physical 
forces ought certainly to have been unqualified blessings to 
all. 

Yet, how often have they proven instruments of torture to the 
■working class ! How many has the introduction of new ma- 
chinery not thrown out of employment; how many exist- 
ences have not thereby been destroyed ! 

We are familiar with the commonplace, that the outcry of 
laborers against '' newfangled machinery " is a complaint born 
of ignorance ; that in the end the working classes are as much 
benefitted as other classes. This outcry is by no means noth- 
ing but an ignorant childish complaint. Machinery would be 
an unqualified blessing, if the temporary injury which it so 
often has caused to individuals and whole bodies of men were 
considered in a spirit of social justice and brotherliness, That 
has never been done wherever the working classes are con- 
sidered^ either in this or any other country. In their case our 
legislators persistently repudiate the duty to take care of the 
interests of those who are sacrificed for the benefit of their 
fellow citizens and of posterity. But whenever other classes 
have been thus affected there has never been the slightest hesita- 



38 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 

tioii to liberally compensate those, prejudicially affected. It 
is the action of Society that has made machinery an evil. This 
is the real meaning of the outcry against "newfangled ma- 
chinery." 

And we deny that working people hitherto have been essen- 
tially benefitted by machinery and inventions at all. The sew- 
ing machine is a pointed illustration. That was thought, at 
all events, to be a blessing to the overworked, famishing needle- 
woman. Yet what has followed? That she is now still more 
overworked, more poorly paid and her health still more en- 
dangered. 

But, to be sure — these inventions were not adopted by cap- 
italists for the benefit of workpeople, or for the general bene- 
fit; no, indeed ! For, of course, this machinery and these in- 
ventions have also gone into the hands of capitalists and are 
controlled by them for their exclusive benefit; and with ad- 
mirable results. It has been calculated that two-thirds of all 
benefit arising from the use of machinery have gone to these 
"pushing" fellows and the remaining one-third to the con- 
sumers. Even our patent laws, with the general advantage for 
their primary idea, have become a means of enabling these 
capitalists, in no sense inventors, to levy heavy tribute upon 
the community for an indefinite length of time, 

" Ah ! but the workers are also consumers, we should think, 
and form the majority in fact of all consumers." 

Hold on, su' ! Has machinery lightened the daifs toil of any 
worker^ That is what ought to measure the benefits of ma- 
chinery to him. Let us see, if it has. 

Here is one picture : Massachusetts is a model state, we 
suppose. Well, a statute of that State in 1860 made ten hours 
a maxium working day for children under twelve years of age. 

In 1867 her legislators became a little more humane and en- 
acted that no child under fifteen years of age should work more 
than sixty hours a week. Go to Pennsylvania, and see children 
ten years old taken down every morning into the mines to 
work ! Here is another picture : In England, two hundred 
years back ten hours were a normal working day for strong black-' 



SOCIAL ANARCIir. 



39 



smiths and robust agricultural laborers. * 

'' But compare the comforts of our laborers two hundred 
years ago. What a wonderful betterment in that respect ! " 

What of it? What comfort is that to our laborers? You 
might as well compare their condition with that of a savage 
in Africa who does not need a coat, does not need soap. Just 
so the laborers of a former age did not need a good many 
things which now are necessaries or decencies of life. We say 
their condition has not improved, because it takes considera- 
ble more toil to procure the needful now than it did then, as 
testified to, among others, by Hallam : " The laborer is much 
inferior in abiUty to support a family than were his ancestors 
four centuries ago." Why ! before the beginning of this "cap- 
italistic" system laborers could in England live a whole week 
upon the earnings of four days ; now in Massachusetts he often 
cannot live a week upon the earnings of a week of much more 
continuous toil. No, in many cases he is obhged to disrupt 
his family and send his wife and children to the factory. 

For that is the greatest curse of machinery— or rather of 
^'-individualistic'''' monopoly of machinery — that capital can be 
and is coined out of women and even out of infancy ; that 
women and children can be and are substituted for men. Thus, 
not alone are men turned into wares, governed by Demand and 
Supply, but men are made to scramble for a precarious living 
with their wives., sisters and children. In the cotton and woollen 
factories of enlightened Massachusetts women and children 
now compose two-thirds of the working force. The necessa- 
ry result is a great reduction in wages. It is notorious that 
the wages thus earned by a whole family do not, on an aver- 
age, exceed those of the head of the family in occupations 
where it has not yet become habitual to employ women and 
children. 

And do not venture to compare the independence of our work- 
mg classes with the artisans of England of a former age, who 
partly worked for themselves, and possessed a cottage and a 

* Thornton : Over population and its remedy Prof. Thor- 
ald Rogers : History of Agriculture in England. Hallam, 
2nd part of 9th Chap, of " The Middle Ages." 



40 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 

cow and a strip of land to cultivate. Our ox-eyed, docile 
wage-workers, restrained by ai-bitrary shop rules prescribed 
by their lord — rules tliat forbid them to talk to each other or 
even to laugh ( / ) — will not for a moment bear comparison with 
the merry families of master and men of the despised Middle 
Age. 

The first result of the ''Let alone" System, thus, is that 
capitalists monopalize all the instruments of production, all 
the previous acquisitions of Society, all increase in the produc- 
tivity of Labor, and therefore, exercise an autocratic control of 
all industries and over the whole working class. 

The great weapon at the command of the capitalist is Com- 
petition. 

*'■ Competition," like most economical terms, is a very slip- 
pery word. At one time it means something which advances 
the successful, but leaves the unsuccessful on his former level, 
that kind of competition rouses the energy of both, of the un- 
successful as well as of the successful and increases the ca- 
pacity of both. We shall call that by a much more appropri- 
ate term : Emulation. 

At another time '' competition " means the advancing one- 
self at the cost of others ; the pulling the many down, the el- 
bowing the many aside, in order to advance the one. That 
" competition " is most cruel to the individual and. in the 
long run, most injurious to Society. 

It deserves the name of " cut-throat competition " when the 
wage-workers are forced into a struggle to see who shall live 
and who shall starve. 

But these are by no means the only sufferers. The small 
employers, the small merchants are just as much victims of 
that cruel kind of competition as the wage-worker. For every 
one of the fleecers lives in a state of nature with all of his 
brethren ; the hand of the one is against the other, and no 
foe is more terrible than the one who is running a neck-to-neck 
race with him every day. The mammoth factory, the mam- 
moth store is a most implacable foe. The fierce competition 
lessens the profit on each article, and that must be corapensa- 



SOCIAL ANARCHY. 41 

ted for by a greater number of them being produced and sold, 
that is, the cheaper the goods, the more capital is required. 

Precisely, therefore, for the same reason that the mechanic 
with his own shop and working on his own account nearly has 
disappeared in the struggle between hand-work and machine- 
work, the small employers with their little machinery, their 
small capital and their little stock of goods are being driven 
from the field. 

Look at those queer princes of ours —vulgar men, far from 
possessing eminent faculties or high attainments ; men having 
no more knowledge or mental capacity than is required in 
many mechanical pursuits — who by the employment and 
power of their capital yearly ruin multitudes of hard working 
merchants, and boast that they are selling more goods in a 
day than the whole '* crowd " of other stores in a week ! Scores 
of such small merchants, driven to the wall by an A. T. Stew- 
art, had to be glad, if the " prince " would make them his ser- 
vants and graciously allow them to help swell his millions. 

In short, the smaller fortunes invested in productive or com- 
mercial enterprises are by this cut-throat competition attract- 
ed to the great capitals, just as iron fihngs are to the magnet. 
The greal: capitalist triumphs, the small capitalist becomes a 
clerk, wage-laborer or parasite of some kind or other; the 
middle class disappears little by little. Our social order may fit- 
ly be compared to a ladder of which the middle rounds are 
being torn away, one by one. 

This, then, is another fruit of Private "Enterprise," thac 
the small employers are gradually being rooted out by the great 
capitalists. 

In former periods Society was tormented with plagues, caused, 
as we now know, by ignorance and consequent violation of 
the laws of health. Our era is cursed with Crises, occurring 
far more frequently than plagues and causing with each oc- 
currence as much misery. 

Economists say, that these crises are caused by overproduc- 
tion. ''Overproduction!" — a remarkable word, in truth, as 
long as one unfed and unclad human being, willing to work, 



42 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 

roams the earth. Would not our ancestois of any preccedhig 
age have considered anyone who would have talked to them 
of overproduction a lunatic? Could they, you think, have con- 
ceived of such an abnormity as that any nation could ever suf- 
fer from too much industry, too much commerce, ioomajz?/ tools 
and too inuch food? But we ought, in order to be fair, to take 
the word in the sense of these economists. They mean by 
"overproduction" a too large production, compared with the 
effective demand. But, then, what is the cause of the too large 
production? 

Private Enterprise Socialists say. Private Enterprise com- 
pels every producer to produce for himself, to sell for himself, 
to keep all his transactions secret, without any regard what- 
ever for anybody else in the wide world. But the producer 
and mei'chaiit — the small ones, especiallj'- — find daily out, that 
their success or failure depend, in the first place, precisehj on 
how much others produce and sell^ and, in the second placv?, on a 
multitude of causes — often on things that may happen thou- 
sands of miles away — which determine the povver of purchase 
of their customers. They have got no measure at hand at all 
by which they can, even approximately, estimate the actual 
effective demand of consumers or ascertain the producing ca- 
pacity of their rivals. In other w^ords : Private "Enterprise" 
is a defiance of ISTature's law which decrees that the interests 
of ^ocAQty SiVQ, interdependent'^ and Nature punishes that defi- 
ance in her ow^n crude way by inlaying ball with these individ- 
ualists, and what is worse, by rendering all pioduction, all 
commerce chaotic. Bisk is Nature's Bevenge. 

Just take a bird's-eye view of the way Private "Enterprise " 
manages affairs. Observe how every manufacturer, every mei- 
chant strives in every possible way — by glaring advertise- 
ments, by underselling others, by giving long credits, by send- 
ing out an army of drummers — to beat his rivals. Not one 
here and there, not a few do this; they all do it. We shall 
suppose the season a favorable one ; all of them receive or- 
ders in greater number than they expected. These orders 
stimulate each one of the manufacturers to a more aud more 
enlarged production far ahead of the orders received, in the 



SOCIAL ANAECPIY. 43 

hope of being able to dispose of all that is being produced. 
But mark! this production of all these manufacturers is and 
must necessarily be, absolutely j9Za«Zess. It dqyencls altogeth- 
er on chance and the private guesswork of these '-enterprising " 
individuals, who ail are guessing entirely in the dark. That 
means that all their production, all their commerce, is in the 
nature of gamhUng. To a thoughtful observer nothing will seem 
more inevitable, than that this j^ZauZess production micst end in 
the market being at some time overstocked with commodities 
of one kind or another; that is, that it must end in ''overpro- 
duction" as to those goods. In that branch of production prices, 
consequently, fall, wages come down, or a great manufactur- 
er fails, and a smaller or greater number of workmen are dis- 
charged. 

But one branch of industry depends upon another; one 
branch suffers when another is depressed. The stoppage of pro- 
duction at one point, therefore, necessarily shows itself at an- 
other point in the industrial network. The circle of depression 
thus grows larger and larger from month to month, failure 
succeeds failure, the general consumption diminishes, ail pro- 
duction and commerce is paral5^zed. We have got the crisis. 
To those who were all the time planning and working in the 
dark everything seemed to be going on as usual ; it has natural- 
ly come on them like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. 

Vast quantities of stored up goods now have to be disposed 
of at great sacrifice, to the ruin not alone of their owners but 
of many others who thereby are forced, likewise, to sell under 
cost-price. Then it is we hear from everyone in everj'' calling 
this the strongest of all condemnations of this Social '' Order" 
of ours ; ••' We have too many competitors ; half of us must 
perish, before the other half can live." All the result of plan- 
less work. 

When such a crisis has lasted for years, when such sacrifice 
of goods and standstill of production has finally overcome 
the •' overproduction," then the inevitable demand at length 
calls for renewed production; aid Society commences to re- 
cover slowly, but only to repeat the old story. Producers 
want to indemnify themselves for what they have lost and 



44 SOCIAL ANAECHY. 

hope to " make " sufficient, before another crisis comes on. 
Because all producers act in like manner, each one trying to 
outflank the other, another catastrophe is invited. It responds 
to the call and approaches with accelerated strides and with 
more damaging eff"ects than any of its predecessors. 

These crises very much quicken the absor[)tion of the small- 
er fortunes by the large ones, for the capitalist with large re- 
sources is the only one capable in the long run of withstand- 
ing this rough treatment of outraged Nature. The smaller cajD- 
italists the crises swallow up like veritable maslstroms. 

Tliese mcelstroms : the crises^ then, are the direct production of 
Private Enterprise. 

Again, we saw how the workingmen were driven out of their 
employment as producers, how the small employers were push- 
ed out of their business by this cut-throat competition. In 
nine cases out of ten they have only one refuge left: that of 
squeezing themselves in between producers and consumers as 
shopkeepers, saloonkeepers, peddlers, ' 'agents," boarding-and 
lodging-house-keepers; that is, of hacommg parasites. 

It may seem hard to speak thus of persons who by no means 
lead an enviable existence, who honestly try to make some 
sort of a living, whose life often is a tread-mill of drudgery 
and, if different from that of the workingman's, is only dif- 
ferent in this, that while the latter struggles for the necessities 
of today, the former struggle for the threatened necessities of 
tomorrow. 

They are, nevertheless, parasites, unnecessary workers. Gohig 
along our streets you observe one small store, one boarding- 
house crowding another, one saloon, and often several, in one 
block : you will have all kinds of men and women thrust their 
small stock into your face ; in your house you will be annoyed 
by all kinds of peddlers and agents, socalled. 

All these people live. Somebody must earn their living for 
them. 

In the first place, they live by enhancing the x)rice of pro- 
visions and all other goods twice and three times what the pro- 
ducers get. The difference between their prices and whole- 



SOCIAL ANARCHY. 45 

sale prices makes just the difference between healtbfiil plenty 
and half satisfied hunger for the poor. It is a great mistake to 
suppose that competition always, or necessarily, lowers prices. 
It often has just the contrary effect. Probably two-thirds of 
existing small shopkeepers can not make a decent living with- 
out extravagant profits. Or, if the prices can not be enhanced, 
then 

In the second place, they live by depreciating the quality 
of their goods and by short weights and measures. Adulter- 
ation of provisions and merchandize is notoriously carried on 
in every branch of trade that will permit of it ; has indeed become 
a social institution, against which no law can make any head- 
way. A representative of a leading spice house lately said : 
"We sell to the trade more adulterated goods than pure. We 
cannot help it. We simply sell the retailer what he wants. 
It would ruin the trade to prohibit adulteration." Competition 
in drugs is now so hot, dealers, in order to live, are compelled 
to adulterate, to weaken and to substitute. It has gone so far, 
that manufacturers of "mineral pulp," now boldly importune 
respectable millers and grocers to mix rock-dust with their 
flour and sugar. 

The laboring class, more than any a^y other, is the natural 
prey of these parasites. Remember, that the laborer's ware, 
his labor, is never paid for till it has been used ; that he must 
give his employer credit, always for a week, often for two 
weeks or a month ; that he will have to wait for his compen- 
sation, even while the values he lias created have been long 
since converted into cash in his employer's hands. It is a neces- 
sary consequence, that he, on his part, must ask credit from 
his shopkeeper. He becomes the prey, bound hand and foot, of 
that shopkeeper. He dare not murmur at the price charged, 
dares not be over particular as to weight or quality. He is pret- 
ty much in the same fix as the fly in the spider's web. 

Thus the portion of the industrial cake allotted to labor is 
further considerably curtailed, and all on account of Private 
'"'' Enterprise ; ^^ for it, also, is exclusively responsible for these 
parasites. 



40 SOCIAL ANAECHY. 

Let us pass over to our farmers. They, as yet the majority 
of our working population, are still the great conservative 
force, the brake, so to speak, on the wheel of progress. Is it 
lilvely that they will continue to be? We shall see. 

Our farmers were half a generation ago considered and are 
still considered the most independent and prosperous class of 
the community. 

True, the prosperity of the western farmer, especially, was 
and is not of a character to excite the envy of anj^body. His 
whole life, and more particularly that of his wife, was one of 
toil. He had to break our lands and clear our forests. His 
family had to subject themselves to all kinds of privations for 
a lifetime of dreary years. The social life of the farmers' wives 
was a mockery of our civilization ; their sisters struggling in 
the cities had, at least, the comfort of suffering in company. 
To the family of the farmer sugar, tea and coffee were, for a 
series of years, luxuries, especially when droughts and grass- 
hoppers destroyed the fruits ot his toil, generally as severe as 
that of his horse. And his reward? That of vegetating and 
•"raising" a family, as we so expressively term it; yes — 
and of being the owner of his farm. 

But his ownership is even now. frequently, one in name 
only. The capitalist has got hold of him also. Very many 
of the western farms are covered with mortgages, which their 
nominal owners have no hope of ever raising. This fact is so 
well known, that the N. Y. '•'• Times " some time ago advised 
the farmers to prepare themselves for their fate. What 
fate ? That of be coming tenant-farmers like their brethren 
of Great Britain. 

It is, especially, since the commencement of the last decade 
that they are falling victims to '' Private Enterprise." 

There is in the ''Atlantic Jloutlily " for Janury 1880 a most 
instructive article,* entitled *•' Bonanza Farms," containing 
many startling facts, which in the near future cannot but have 
an important bearing on tha condition of our farmers. These 
" Bonanza Farms" are vast cultivated tracts of land in Min- 

♦ Embodied in a book called ^ Land and Labor," published 
by Scribner and Sons. Mr. Moody of Boston is the author. 



SOCIAL ANARCHY. 47 

nesota, Dakota, Texas, Kansas and California, each containing 
thousands of acres of land owned by presidents and directors 
of railways, by bankers in St. Paul and New York, London 
and Fraukfort-on-the-Main. They are conducted on purely 
'•business,"— that is, capitalist principles. On these farms 
there are no families, no women, no children, no homes. There 
is no need for them. But there is plenty of " Labor " in the 
neighborhood. There is such an abundance of unemployed 
men, that the managers of the farms can hire all the labor they 
want for $16,00 a month, during the busy, seasons with thir- 
teen hours of daily labor, and for $8.00 a month during the 
balance of the year. 

This fact alone would render it absolutely out of the ques- 
tion for the surrounding small farmers to compete with the 
bonanzas. For the former have to support a family, and to 
feed, clothe and shelter, and altogether provide for the same 
number of persons throughout the whole year, while the lat- 
ter only need to hire about one-fourth the number of persons, 
in proportion to the work to be done, and that for less than 
one-fourth of the year. But the small farmer has other and 
'greater odds still to contend with : the discrimination practised 
by other large corporations. Thus, the bonanzas obtain spec- 
ial rates from the railroad companies : /. i. they are charged 
for the transportation of their produce rates, fifty per cent be- 
low those which the other farmers are obliged to pay ; they 
buy their machinery and farming implements of the manu- 
facturers and dealers at a discount of 33 1-3 per cent. 
from the published rates. We ought, therefore, not to won- 
der, when we are told, that the surrounding small farmers are 
hopelessly in debt, while the owners of these bonanza farms 
— the aforesaid bankers and railroad-presidents — are amassing 
colossal fortunes ; that they even with wheat at only 70 cts. a 
bushel reaUze twenty per cent, the first year on their capital 
and the second year — fifty-five per cent. 

The article concludes with the remark : '* We are taking im- 
mense strides in placing our country in the position of Great 
Britain, and even worse." So it seems. For there the farms 
are practically homesteads, while the bonanza farms have noth- 



48 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 

ing suggesting homes, except a building for the bachelor su- 
perintendent and the boarding house for the "hands." 
There is no doubt that these bonanzas will in the near 
future increase greatly in number. Thus our public lands, 
which were intended for happy homes are in a fair way of be- 
coming no better than penal colonies, and of being robbed of 
their rich soil for the benefit of capitalist pockets. What 
will then become of our farmer-'' proprietors" but farmer- 
tenantsf If they are already running behindhand now^ how 
much time will it take for the bonanza farmers to put an end 
to their proprietorship, by means of Private *" Enterprise? " 
Especially if our export to Europe, on account of good har- 
vest there, should happen to cease. Bear in mind, that our 
country already now produces far more food than our popula- 
tion could possibly consume, and yet thousands of acres are 
yearly added to the area under cultivation. 

Yes, the time will come, when our farmers will learn, that 
Socialism is the only refuge alike for them and the other work- 
ing classes, and their eyes may be opened to the advantage of 
the Cooperative Commomvealth. The great dairy farms in New 
York State and elsewhere may also contribute their quota to 
this lesson. 

Thus even our farmers^ as yet the most splendid yeomanry 
the world has ever seen, are becoming the victims of Private 
Enterprise to fully the same extent as our worMngman and small 
employer. 

But our big capitalists have a still more powerful sledge- 
hammer than that of Competition ready at hand, to wit : Com- 
hination. 

These gentlemen know practical dialectics. They know, 
that, though Competition and Combination are opposites, they 
yet may come to mean the same thing — to them. They have 
already found that while Competition is a very excellent weap- 
on to use against their weaker rivals. Combination pays far bet- 
ter in relation to their peers. It is evident, that it is combin- 
ation they mainly rely upon for theii- future aggrandizement. 

Combination consists in one or several capitalists or corpora- 



SOCIAL A2^ARCHY. 49 

tions helping along a third, on the condition of participating 
in the fleecings. We have already mentioned one such instance. 
We saw how railroad officers united with bonanza farmers to 
crash out the small farmers. We read of another instructive 
instance in an article published in the *' Atlantic Monthly " lor 
March 1881, and headed: '' The story of a great Monopoly." 

It tells, how the Erie and Pennsylvania Railroads and Van- 
derbilt '' pooled " their interests with the " Standard Oil Com- 
pany,"" how they agreed to carry, and did carry its oil at much 
lower rates than the oils of other companies, and in many cases 
absolutely refused to carry the oils of the latter. It tells how, 
by such discrimination, the fleecings of the ••' Standard" 
swelled to such an extent that, starting with a capital stock of 
one million, it paid to its stockholders a dividend of one mil- 
lion dollars a month, and has now piled up in undivided profits 
and other forms a capital of Thirty Millions. Truly a ''Great 
monopoly," a very dangerous monopoly^ one should think, for 
Pennsylvania and the public at large. 

''By the same tactics," says the writer, "the Railroads can 
give other combinations of capitalists the control of the lum- 
ber, cotton, iron and coal of the United States." 

In Europe such alliances between Railroads and corporations 
would be impossible. But in our country, who^ro. Private " En- 
terprise'''' runs rampant, where the "Let Alone" abomination is 
carried to its highest logical ]oitch, such alliances are certain 
to be a prominent feature of our future. 

But the evils which flow from the something-wrong in So- 
ciety is not confined to wage-workers, farmers and small em- 
ployers. The at present existing relations of men constitute 
the comfortless mutual slavery of us all, as we shall find, 
wherever we turn. Professional men of every kind can, also, 
be divided into those who have and those who have not; and 
those among them who have not are fully as bad off as the 
wag<i- workers, indeed worse oft", for their culture becomes an 
additional curse to them. We will sui^pose such a man has 
talents, that he has. qualified himself by hard study for a re- 
sponsible function in Society, yet this anarchical Society has 



50 SOCIAL ANAECHY. 

no opening for him. He perhaps becomes a clerk, just as much 
dependent on his employer just as much a hireling as the wage- 
worker is ; he likewise must hold his tongue, and constantly 
he on the lookout to preserve the favor of his august autocrat, 
while he all the while is doing the work of others who really 
receive the pay. 

Wliat a spectacle, for instance, does the medical profession 
present ! One successful practitioner we find burdened with 
more work than mortal man can perform — in the surrounding 
streets twenty unhappy men, each ot whom as laborious!}^ 
trained, wasting their capabilities, starving, perhaps, for want. 
Under better arrangements these twenty would form a corps 
of subalterns under the really ablest physician — and not mere- 
ly the most successful impostor — physicking people for head- 
aches, while the latter treated only more difficult cases. 

But now, even in all professions, tlie watchword is, " Every 
one look out for himself and the devil take the hindmost " — 
all due to Unrestricted Private '' Enterprise.'''' 

Our era may be called the Jewish Age. The Jews have, 
indeed, had a remarkable influence on our civilization. Long 
ago they infused in our race the idea of one God, and now 
they have made our wdiole race worship a new true God : 
The Golden Calf ; but, again, it is Jews — such noble Jews as 
Karl Marx and Lassalle — who have sounded the alarm for the 
most determined battle against this very Jewism. '' Jewism," 
to our mind, best expresses that special curse of our age . 
Speculation^ the transfer of wealth from others to themselves 
by chicanery without giving an equivalent. 

If there is one species of gambhug more despicable than 
another, it is gambling in grain. The sales of grain on our 
Produce-Exchanges are merely gambling transactions. Cliques 
of thewealthiestmeninChicago, Milwaukee and New York, 
having behind them banks and other moneyed corporations, 
make enormous combinations of capital to " corner " the mark- 
et, locking up millions of bushels of wheat, and maintain fam- 
ine-prices in the midst of plenty. Their profits are enormous. 
So are those of another clique wiio owns all pork. And where 



SOCIAL ANARCHY. 51 

do those profits come from? From the workers, of course, 
from the bread-winners, who thus earn the support and the 
wealth, not only of their emploj^ers, their so-called •* bread- 
givers^''" but of those Vampires who use their backs as the green 
table on which to play their games. 

The Vampires are quite different creatures from the para- 
sites we already have treated of. The latter are workers, though 
snperfluous workers,the former are not workers at all. But 
then, they do not call themselves workers either, but — •' busi- 
ness men." There is quite a difference between work and 
business as that word is now commonly used. " Work " is ef- 
fort to satisfy wants, and may be either useful or useless ; but 
''• business " is effort to benefit by the work of others^ and if that 
is to be called '• work,"' it is at any rate mischievous work; in 
that sense our criminals, also, work and generally pretty hard. 
'' Work " Z5 6em^ busy in benefit; ''business" being busy in 
mischief. Our parasites are useless workers ; our Vampires 
are not better than thieves and swindlers. 

On a par with Speculation is much of our " Traffic." The 
'•enterprise" of our mercantile " kings " and "princes" is 
very often but another name for chicanery and swindling. 
" Suppose," John Buskin says, "a community of three men 
on an island. Two, the one a farmer and the other a mechan- 
ic, are so far apart, that they are wholly at the mercy of the 
third who travels between them, and effects their exchanges. 
He is constantly watching his opportunities, and retains the 
products of the one with which he has been intrusted 
and which are needed hy the other, until there comes a period 
of extreme need for them and he can exact enormous gains 
from their necessities. It is easy to see that, while he may in 
that way draw the whole wealth of the community to him- 
self and make his principals his servants, he also in fact di- 
minishes the amount of wealth by cramping the operations of 
his two customers and diminishing the effective results of their 
labors. That is Wealth, acquired on the strict principles of 
Political Economy." And the millions which go into the pock- 
ets of these mercantile men of ours as " profits " are by them 
called reward for " enterprise" " compensation for risk," — 



52 SOCIAL AN-ARCHY. 

Do M^e call the gains of the swindler or the robber "compen- 
sation for risks?" No, commerce^ which is the interchange of 
commodities, is a most beneficial social activity ; Tra^c^ Trade, 
which, as Herbert Spencer says, is "essentially corrupt," 
which partakes of the nature either of gambling or overreach- 
ing, is not i 

These Vampires are the offspring of the ^'' Let Alone'''' Policy. 

" Laissez-faire,'^'' " Let alone " — leave the upright at the mer- 
cy of the cunning ; leave the ignorant to teach themselves ; 
leave everyone who profits by a corrupt system to make the 
most for himself; let Labor remain something wholesale out 
of which fortunes are made and which during that process 
yields such and such a per centage of Misery and Sin — what a 
grand "principle!" By adopting it for its guiding-star our 
Society has achieved — Anarchy. 

Our comfortable classes talk much of " Social Order.'''' In 
ancient Greece and Rome there was Social " Order," such 
as it was ; during part of the Middle Age, there was Social 
"• Order," such as it was. But in our age there is, as we have 
seen, throughout our whole economic sphere no social order 
at all. There is absolute Social Anarchy. It is against this 
Social Anarchy that Socialism, chiefly, is a protest. 

We have seen the various phases of this anarchy, all the le- 
gitimate outgrowth of private " enterprise: " 

All instruments of production are monopolized. The evil 
of this monopoly does not so much consist in the plutocrat 
being the undisputed owner of that which he has acquired 
(the sum total of which is now so very inappropriately called 
National wealth.) Though formed out of fleecings and in no oth- 
er manner whatsoever, he can claim these acquisitions as his 
property, because he has got hold of them by the express con- 
sent of Society. The evil lies in this, that he is able and per- 
mitted to use this property of his to further fleece his fellow- 
men out of the proceeds of their toil. 

This private enterprise is responsible for our crises, the in- 
evitable consequences of defying the natural law of Solidarity 
between all the members ot Society. 



SOCIAL ANARCHY. 53 

It lias produced our parasites and vampires. 

It has given us Competition with all its baneful conse- 
quences. 

Not Emulation^ which no Society can afford to do without, 
the loss of which would check all advance and deaden ail en- 
ergy. 

But Cannibalism, that poisonous tooth the extraction ot 
which would immensely relieve society. 

It has put into the hands of our Plutocrats a deadlier club 
than competition for them to use whenever it serves their pur- 
pose : Combination among themselves. 

It has destroyed all the patriarchal, idyllic relations which 
formerlly existed among men and left only the one 
relation : Cash-payment. It has drowned the chivalrous 
enthusiasm, the x)ious idealism which existed in previous 
ages in a chilly shower of realistic egotism. It has put ex- 
change-value in place of i^ersonal human dignity and license 
in place ot freedom. It has made the physician, the jurist, the 
poet, the scientist, retainers of the Plutocracy. It has made 
marriage a commercial relation and prostitution one of the es- 
tablished institutions of Society. 

But let us be fair. 

So far we have discussed only the evil workings of "private 
enterprise.'' We heartily admit that, on the other hand, it has 
performed wonders. It has built monuments greater than the 
pyramids. Its Universal Expositions have moved greater 
masses of men than the Crusades ever did. It has done man- 
kind an immense service in i^roving by hard facts, that whole- 
sale manufacture is the most sensible form of Labor. 

But we contend that it now has done all the good it can, 
that the evils which now flow from ^^ private enterprise " far 
outweigh the benefits it confers. 

Tliat is why we condemn it. We condemn it just as we con- 
demn an old, decaying building, however useful it may have 
been in its time ; or as Nature condemns the cocoon of a 
chrysalis, when a butterfly is ready to be born. 

But w^e know full well that ''piivate enterprise" will for some 
time yet go on working mischief. We know it must become 



54 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 

a, good deal worse than it is, before it can become better. 

But we also know that in the fullness of time the Logic of 
Events will, imperatively, demand a change from this Social 
Anarchy to true Social Order. 



CHAPTER m. 



THE CULMINATION. 



"Real history is a history of tendencies, not of events." — 
Buckle. 

"Nothing would lead the mass of men to embrace Socialism 
sooner than the conviction, that this enormous accumulation 
of Capital in a few hands was to be, not only an evil in fact if 
not prevented, but a necessary evil beyond prevention. 

"If such a tendency should manifest itself, ic would run 
through all forms of property. A (Stewart or a Claflin would 
root out small trades-people. Holders of small farms would 
sink into tenants. The buildings of a city would belong to a 
few owners. Small manufacturers would have to take pay 
from mammoths of their own khid or be ruined. * * * * 
If this went to an extreme in a free country, the 'expropriated' 
could not endure it. They would go to some other country, 
and leave the proprietors alone in the land, or they would 
drive them away. A revolution, slow or rapid, would cer- 
tainly bring about a new order of things." — '"''Communism aiid 
Socialism^''' by Dr. Th. D. Woolsey. 



The Capital — not "Wealth," not "Property" but Capital — 
in private hands involves the dependence of the masses ; that 
our Established Order is nothing but Established Anarchy 



56 THE CULMINATION. 

are the conclusions we have arrived at. Will such a state 
of things last forever? 

Here we meet with one of the greatest obstacles with which 
Socialists have to contend : the notion that whatever is, is the 
immutable order of nature. Because the wage-system and the 
" Let-alone " policy now prevail and have prevailed as far back 
as any one can remember, people, even well-informed people, 
fancy that this policy and that system constitute the necessa- 
ry conditions for civilized society. Socialists hold that this 
is a fundamental error. They say, with all advanced scientists, 
that what is has grown out of. something else that was, and 
that the present is the parent of the future. The history of 
our race is a series of preparations. 

In the ancient states where the civilization of our race com- 
menced there was no wage-system ; there was Slavery. The 
master was lord of the persons of his slaves, lord of the soil 
and owner of the instruments of labor. We who have reached 
a higher stage of development look very properly back with 
horror on this ancient Slavery; and yet we should not forget 
that we are indebted to this same Slavery for our civilization. 

Progress takes place, only, when either some individuals 
control other individuals, or when they voluntarily cooperate 
together. But voluntary cooperation is a hard lesson lor men 
to learn; and, therefore, progress has to commence with com- 
pulsory cooperation ; with control of everything, — with Slav- 
ery. 

Look at our Indian tribes. They work, in their way, as well 
as civilized people do. Yet they are strangers to progress. 
Why? Because they never accumulated any wealth. And 
they accumulated no wealth, because they worked as isolated 
individuals ; because they never have known any division of 
labor. Kow Slavery was to our race, the first division of labor ; it 
was the first form of cooperation ; for it is too often over- 
looked, that division of labor is at the same time cooperation in 
labor. The ruling principle during Slavery was, of course, 
Despotism^ the irresponsible will of the lord. 

Feudalism^ and Serfdom constitute the next great period in 
the history of our race, coming in contemporaneously with 



THE CULMINATION. 57 

the ascendancy of Christianity and tlie dominion of the north- 
em barbarians. Under it the lords of the soil were the dom- 
inant class ; but the persons of the workers were free, though 
they were attached to the soil where they were born. This 
change conferred an immense gain on the working multitude. 
They were now invested with the most elementary right of all : 
that of creating a family for themselves. And their belong- 
ing to the soil was far from being altogether an evil, since it 
conferred on them the right to claim sujDport from the soil. 

The ruling principle during that period was Custom^ which 
proved itself a most efficient x)rotector of the workers. It fixed, 
strictly, and in many countries with the utmost particularity 
in details, the amount of work due to their lord for the use of 
the soil, and all other rights and duties of every class and in- 
dividual. " Freedom '' during the middle ages meant the en- 
joyment of those rights which Custom thus gave. It may 
well be a question, whether the workers of that long era were 
not a happier class than our wage-workers. 

During those two stages of development " Capital" was un- 
known and unheard of. There was Wealth, there were Reve- 
nues, plenty of means of enjoyment. The great folks lived 
in splendor, certainly ; but they did not, and could not cap- 
italize their possessions. 

Remember that best of economic definitions of Capital, which 
we adopted : " That part of wealth, employed productively, 
with a view to profit, by sale of the produce." During Slav- 
ery and Serfdom Wealth was not employed productively with 
a view to profit, by sale of the produce, but with a view to 
immediate, personal enjoyment. The lords could not make 
their possessions grow by '' profit," by "fleecings," could not 
invest them. They could not levy tribute on anybody but their 
own slaves, their own serfs. 

But the progress of mankind demanded that another step 
should be taken. The iron bands of Custom had to be sundered 
and that is done by an assertion of the independence of the 
individual in the form of Unrestricted Private Enterprise ; which 
fructifies the germ of Capital, already found in the previous 
accumulations of wealth. Private Enterprise commences, 



58 THE CULMINATION. 

in the closing years of the Middle Ages, by suddenly advanc- 
ing commerce to an unprecedented degree and developing the 
Commerce of the World. It gives rise to the discoveries and 
inventions which now crowd upon each other ; foremost among 
which are the discoveryof America, the invention of the print- 
ing press and the steam engine. These in their turn nourish 
Capital. It becomes an iiifant, growls up to youth and man- 
hood, bursts completely the fetters of the Middle Ages by the 
ever memorable French Revolution, and has developed in our 
days into a giant by division of labor being carried to an ex- 
tent, not dreamt of before; or — what is the same thing — by 
a greater cooperation in production than was known before. 

Thus w-e have arrived at the third stage in the development 
of our race: this era of Capital and Individualism. Wealth 
during all three periods governed the world, coutrolled the 
masses, but never before in the form of Capital. Our Plutoc- 
racy, our industrial, commercial and moneyed aristocracy, 
whom the French called '• the Third Estate; " those who by 
the control of the instruments of labor have acquired the more 
advantageous iDosition, are now our masters, the dominant 
power, who by laws and usages, enacted by themselves, have 
made this advantageous position of theirs a permanent one. 
The workers have hardly occasion to rejoice at the change. 
They are free to own land, but have not the means to buy it. 
They have personal liberty, yes. They are no longer bound 
to the soil ; they have got the barren legal right to go where 
they please. But they have, at the same time, lost the right 
to claim support from the soil. Their liberty is one that ben- 
efits their masters, rather than themselves. The power of 
discharge and the advantage of having everywhere an army 
of proletarians to hire from, is vital to the gro wth of Capital. 
The workers have lost the power they as serfs possessed to 
labor to advantage for themselves, for in all branches of in- 
dustry wtiolesale production has supplanted domestic indus- 
try. They have cooperation in production with a vengeance 
— think of Plugson and his spinners. The division and enjoy- 
ment of the products on the other hand, is entirely onesided. 

The Plutocracy, the fleecing class and their retainers, is in 



THE CULMINATION. 59 

this third stage of our civilization the really governing power 
all over the civilized world. But while it is checked, to some 
extent, in the European countries by the remnants of Feudal- 
ism : the nobility and clergy, it in our country is absolute, sim- 
ply because this is a new country. Here its power is unques- 
tioned and unrestrained. It is the easiest thing in the world 
for it to maintain its dominion here; for all it has to do is to 
command the government : "leave us alone!" Indeed our 
governments may be said to be merely committees of our Plu- 
tocrats, charged with watching over their common interests. 

Xow observe, that Socialists hold that each of these three 
periods, though together forming a long and weary road, was 
yet a necessary link in the chain of progress, was a prepara- 
tory step to each succeeding stage. We cannot accomplish 
the progress of our race by leaps but must do it by growthSc 
We cannot dispense with any of these stages. We could not 
dispense with the present reign of Individualism and Capital. 
If a magic wand could restore the mode of production in 
vogue two hundred years ago, it would require another two 
centuries to mature the conditions for that New Order Avhich 
lies in the womb of time. And we also hold, that history 
is radically incomprehensible without the conception, that the 
social state of each epoch was just as perfect as the corres- 
ponding development of our race permitted. The evils, there- 
fore, of the "• let alone" policy which we described inthepre- 
ceeding chapter are to be considered the legitimate workings 
of a principle to which humanity in times to come will find it- 
self greatly indebted. 

This conception ought to guard us against feeling any ill- 
will towards the individual members of our Plutocracy. 
Passions directed against the system are most proper; for it 
is only passion that can nerve us sufficiently to overthrow the 
system. But our capitalists are as much the creatures of circ- 
umstances as our paupers are. Neither should we forget, 
that there have here and there been employers and capitalists 
who would willingly have sacrificed their all to right society. 
Robert Owen w^as the more noble a man for beius: rich. 



60 THE CULMINATION. 

Having noted the principles and factors which thus far have 
shaped the destinies of our race, and having seen how the 
" Let-alone" policy has worked, and how it is working at this 
very day, the next inquiry naturally is : What will he the 
outcome? How will this policy work in the future? 

Dr. Theodore D. Woolsey, is a very cautious man, as bene- 
fits his profession and his position as a representative of our 
luxurious classes. He admits in his " Communism and Social- 
ism^^'' that ''there is some reason to apprehend, that the 'free 
use ' ot private property must end in making a few capitalists 
of enormous wealth, and a vast population of laborers de- 
pendent on them," — if not prevented. This conclusion is not 
due to any flights of fancy or unseemly rashness on the gen- 
tleman's part, for he goes on to say what we have quoted at 
the head of this chapter. If such a tendency " should" man- 
ifest itself, then he thinks, a Stewart " would " root out small- 
er trades-people ; small producers " would " be ruined by mam- 
moths of theu- own kind and the land and houses of a city 
" would " be more and more monopolized. We should say, that 
Dr. Woolsey is, if anything, over-cautious. Most people 
would be ready to say outright, that those things are daily 
taking place; and that, thus, the tendency of the "free use 
of private property" is manifest. Private "• Enterprise " will, 
evidently, work in the future, as it has done in the past— ay ! 
it will gather greater and greater momentum — if not pre- 
vented. 

That is to say : Concentration will be the order of the day 
along the whole line of production, transportation and ex- 
change. The small farm will give way to the large one ; the 
small producer to the wholesale-producer. 'I'he wholesale 
trade will be more and more concentrated. All retail trade of 
any consequence in our larger cities will be gathered togeth- 
er in huge bazaars, after the Wanamaker pattern in Philadel- 
phia ; tliey will soon attract to themselves the customers of 
the country-stores just as the hardware factories already now 
do much of the work, formerly done by prosperous cross-roads 
blacksmiths. The contract system of erecting buildings will 
soon constitute, and constitutes now to a great extent, all en- 



THE CULMINATION. 61 

gaged in the building-trades a movable, disposable force, to be 
hired now by this contractor and now by that. A few years 
hence the entire production and sale of the anthracite coal of 
Pennsylvania— that is, of the whole country— will be in the 
hands of four companies : the Reading ; the Lehigh Valley ; 
the Delaware, Lackawanna and Western and the Delaware and 
Hudson. In other words four persons will practically decide, 
how much the producers shall be paid and how much the con- 
sumers shall be bled. Probably it will not last long before 
the whole output will be controlled by one corporation. 
The sugar-refining business will in a few years be in the hands 
of a couple of houses. We shall not have to wait long, before 
the whole railroad-system of the country is in the hands of, 
say, four companies. The Standard Oil Company already con- 
trols the oil business, and a few magnates now control in one 
corporation the whole telegraphic system of our country, so 
there the concentration is almost complete. 

The last census report demonstrates conclusively that this 
concentration of manufacturing industries commenced in good 
earnest during the last decade ; while, as we already have seen, 
the number of workers and values created considerably in- 
creased, the number of establishments was in 1880 almost ex- 
actly what it was in 1870. 

Such complete centralization of all activities of Society will, 
evidently, render the working-clas&es more dependent on their 
masters ; will make it more and more impossible for the work- 
ingmen to control their own conditions. They will have in- 
dividually, less and less, if any, control as to what shall be 
their hours of labor and what their pay. That is clearly the 
tendency of the working of " unrestricted private enterprise" 
— if not prevented. 

It will perhaps be objected, that our own figures do not sup- 
port such an inference. The wages of labor it will be said, 
rose steadily from 1850 to 1880 ; to wit : ^248, $310 and $346. 

This objection would be a good instance of the bad uses to 
which the census-figures could be put. This rise in nominal 
wages can be accounted for on the hypothesis of Eicardo. 
While laying it down that wages are determined by the cost 



62 THE CULMINATION. 

of living, he took occasion to observe that wages would prob- 
ably steadily rise, because the prices of provisions had a tend- 
ency continually to rise. It is impossible to say whether there 
has been a real rise in wages before we know how many of 
the necessaries and decencies of life a given sum would buy 
in the respective years. 

But note that our figures in the 1st chapter for the year 1870 
were all reduced to a gold basis, as the value for the three oth- 
er census-years were gold-values. The workman, then, who 
in 1870 received the average yearly wage of ^310 in fact got 
$388 in currency. Now if provisions and many other com- 
modities were not dearer in 1870 than in 1880 — as we think is 
the fact — then, comparing these two fairly prosperous years 
with each other, there has been an absolute fall in wages. 

Again, we do not suppose that this complete dependence of 
the working-class on the employing class will take place be- 
fore the concentration of the social activities is complete. 
When that time arrives, the workingmen will have the screws 
applied to them quickly enough, and they will find out the 
fact by themselves. 

That consummate advocate and retainer of our fleecers — 
we again use this word simply as a term of description, to em- 
phasize a fact, — Wm. M. Evarts, saw the point clearly when 
serving them in the office of national Secretary of State, and 
coolly said in an official document : 

"The first great truth to be learned by manufacturers (sic) 
and workingmen is that the days of high wages are gone. In 
the near future the workingmen of New York cannot expect 
twice or three times the wages of his fellow-worker in Eu- 
rope, nor can the coal-miner of Pennsylvania expect twice the 
wages of the Northumberland miner." 

Thus there is not a shadow of doubt that the enormous ac- 
cumulation of wealth in the hands of a few capitalists, and a 
vast population of laborers dependent on them will be " an evil 
in fact — if not prevented." But can it be prevented? 

One of the proposed '^ remedies " is the extention of our 
foreign markets. 



THE CULMINATION. 63 

This is a ^' remedy " which onr fleecers, our plutocrats, 
guarantee as ao infallible curefor Dr. Woolsey's " evil," in 
other words for the discontent of the working-classes. It must 
be admitted that they seek for that " remedy " with a remark- 
able zeal and pertinacity ; and not alone our plutocrats, but 
the plutocrats of all capitalist countries as well. To get hold 
of the panacea their governments, % e. then- governing com- 
mittees, write bushels of diplomatic notes and protests (re- 
member the American protests against ijrohibiting the impor- 
tation of American pork into Germany and France,) annex 
or conquer half-civilized countries, shake up by the roar of 
cannon the sleeping Chinese, encourage the building of rail- 
ways in Mexico and incursions into the heart of Africa ; in 
brief, penetrate into and ransack with feverish and frantic en- 
ergy every nook and corner of the globe, where human beings 
are found that can be coaxed or driven to — trade. 

Our own Evarts spent much of his time and energy as Sec- 
retary of State in hunting after these foreign markets. What- 
ever motive our plutocrats may pretend in pursuing their ob- 
ject — and we shall soon see that they have an excellent motive 
on their own account — Mr. Evarts cannot very well pretend 
solicitude for the working-classes after the " advice " he gave 
them — and our manufacturers — which we just now quoted. It 
was also Mr. Evarts who, to fortify his advice, caused oui- 
consuls in other countries to prepare reports for the State De- 
partment about the wages paid to foreign workers, which 
were mis-leading, and afterwards were published to show onr 
workingmen that they were altogether too well ofi". 

But no matter what the motive was and is, this cry : For, 
eign Markets, is very characteristic, indeed, of the •' states- 
manship" of these plutocrats who rule us— of these "Rulers 
who are no rulers," in Carlyle's language. It, like all their 
other public measures, proves them the veriest quacks, in this 
that it sliows that they are satisfied with some temporary ad- 
vantages, without considering the ulterior consequences. For 
to anybody who takes into account the immediate future these 
efforts to secure foreign markets must on a little reflection 
appear, as a writer in the Atlantic Monthly for Oct. 1879 calls 



64 THE CULMINATION. 

them, " the maddest of all follies." 

Because, supposing we could secure them, we could not pos- 
sibly hold them. The nations whose custom we are soliciting, 
even China, Japan and Hindostan, are even now adopting all 
our Inventions and improvements, and are fast learning to 
manufacture for themselves. 

Because to secure them, we have to manufacture cheaper 
than any other nation ; that is, we have to lower the wages and 
lengthen the working day of our operatives. Well, that, of 
course, does not disconcert Mr. Evarts. But now comes the 
point. England and all other competing nations will, on the 
same principle, try to oust us by manufacturing still cheaper. 
It is, thus, only by co7iir/zwaZZ?/ lowering the remumeration of 
our workers, even below the starvation wages of Europe, that 
we could possibly hold on to our " supremacy," even tempor- 
arily. And then how contemptible a supremacy ! Carlyle's 
words should be a fitting rebuke : '' Sad, indeed, that our na- 
tional existence depends on our selling manufactured cotton 
a farthing cheaper than any other people." 

Because, lastly, it is anyway a losing business. As the 
wages of our operatives decrease, their power of consumption 
decreases. Foreign markets can. therefore, only be obtained 
at the cost of losing our home-trade. The writer, mentioned 
above, computes, that thus far, we have lost ten dollars in do- 
mestic trade to every dollar gained in foreign trade. 

Foreign markets, thus, truly mean : grasping at a shadow, 
even to our plutocrats. And that it is worthless as a '^ reme- 
dy " against Woolsey's "• evil " is ipso facto apparent. 

A second '' remedy " is the voluntary individual coopera- 
tion, advocated by the English economist. Prof. Cairnes, and 
which has become almost a hobby of so many reformers. 

Prof. Cairnes is a man we must respect. He has got a clear 
conception of the condition of the laboring classes : 

" The conclusion to which I am brought is this, that, un- 
equal as is the distribution of wealth already, the tendency of 
industrial progress — on the supposition, that the present sep- 
aration between individual classes is maintained — is towards 



THE CULMINATION. 65 

an inequality greater still." 
. And unlike Evarts he is anxious to raise them : 

'•The first and indispensable step toward any serious amend- 
ment of the laborer's lot is that he should be, in one way or 
another, lifted out of the groove, in which he at present works, 
and be placed in a position compatible with his becoming a 
sharer in equal propoi'tion with others in the general advan- 
tages, arising from industrial progress. * * * 

" The laborer shall cease to be a mere laborer." 

But the way he indicates, '' that the workmen contribute of 
their savings towards a common fund which they employ as 
capital and cooperate in turning to profit," is, decidedly, not 
the way to solve the problem. 

In the first place it should be apparent to a man like Prof. 
Cairnes, that it is like mocking the laboring classes to suggest 
to them, to start productive enterprises, in competition wjth 
capitalists. Fancy them contemplating the millions needed 
to build factories, to buy machinery and lay in raw materials, 
and then feeling in their own pockets and finding them empty ! 
How can workmen save anything, when their wages vibrate 
around the point of necessaries of life? And suppose, that they 
by adding together their pennies do start some factory or other, 
how can they, possibly, succeed in enterprises that require 
more and more capital ; where Capitalists with experience 
fail? 

But admit that such associations here and there have suc- 
ceeded and chat others therefore likewise might succeed, it 
yet leaves the kernel of the Labor-question untouched. These 
successful associations are brilliant examples of w^orkingmen 
raising themselves out of their class, not raising their class. 
They are not truly cooperative but virtually joint-stock com- 
panies. They compete among themselves just as ordinary 
concerns do. They (the Eochdale Pioneers/, i., w^ho of late 
are an industrial as w^eJl as mercantile association) hire and 
fleece laborers after the appro-ved fashion of the age, and ex- 
perience teaches that they are indeed the hardest taskmasters. 
The interest of the members of these associations becomes 
identified mth Capital, andif ever circumstances should make 



6Q THE CULMINATION. 

it easier for the smarter laborers to start such companies suc- 
cessfully, that fact would create a Labor-caste. In a general 
dispute between Labor and Capital these associations, instead 
of being a vanguard of Labor, will go over to the side of Cap- 
ital. The sons of Rochdale Pioneers, living in luxury and im- 
itating the airs and fashions of the wealthy of all times, point 
the moral. Where is, then, the gain to the laboring classes to 
come in? JSTo, instead of advising workingmen to save, and 
to invest their savings in such risky enterprises, it would be 
much better to advise them to put their savings into their own 
flesh and bone, where they of right belong on account of 
their more efficient labor. 

Voluntary Cooperation in enterprises of consumption is quite 
another thing. Such have in many instances succeeded. They 
can succeed, because they require no very large amount of 
Capital. And Socialists very often advise workingmen, where- 
ever and whenever they can, to start cooperative stores and 
thus get better goods and save the profits, otherwise going to 
the middlemen. It is in other words, a very prudent thing to 
do for the individual. 

But how will it help the body of workingmen? Evidently, 
it could only do so, when the whole body, or at least a large 
majority of them became the beneficiaries of such coopera- 
tion. It is curious, that an economist like Prof. Cairnes does 
not foresee the necessary consequences. 

In such case, of course, the average wages requisite for a 
given standard of living and comfort woukl become less and 
consequently — for Prof. Cairnes admits the law of wages of 
Ricardo and the Socialists — would fall to the new level. The 
workmen thus would be no better ofi" than before. Next, 
what would become of the small traders and shop-keepers, 
thus displaced? They, naturally, would be ruined. They eith- 
er would have to become a burden on the community, or fall 
into the ranks of the wage-workers, and thus contribute to 
lowering Ihe rate of wages still more by their frantic compe- 
tition. The writer ot this once heard a small trader in a west- 
ern town bitterly upbraiding the grangers, who had started 
one of their cooperative stores at his place, because of their 



THE CULMINATION. 67 

meanness. They ought to " live and let live." Was he so 
very unreasonable? 

Such voluntary Cooperation may be very excellent for the 
individual, just as long as it is a sporadic phenomenon— no 
longer. 

A third " remedy," firmly relied upon by another class of 
Labor-reformers, to check the increasing power of the cap- 
italist-and employing class is the formation and strength- 
ening of Trades-unions and the legal enactment of a normal 
working-day; two objects which may be said always to go 
hand in hand. 

We and all Socialists, indeed, have nothing but commenda- 
tion for and active sympathy with every effort that is made to 
bind all the workers of the various crafts together, and to gather 
these crafts again into greater unions. These Trades-unions 
and Trades-assemblies are powerful instruments tor educating 
their members for the coming Social Order, whether they are 
iiware of it or not ; in another connexion we shall have more 
to say on that point. They impress vividly on their mem- 
bers the fact, that their interests are mutual, and that their 
employers, far from being identified with them, are diametri- 
cally opposed to them in interests. They open the eyes of 
their members to the fact, that their masters are not wage- 
givers but take wages from them ; that their masters do not 
suport them but that the7j support their masters. 

Again, while we do not recommend strikes — what the Trades- 
unions, indeed, are also far from doing — we accept them as 
necessary evils. We claim that as a matter of fact (what we 
have already stated) there is an existing warfare between 
capitalists and laborers, and that strikes are simply the skirm- 
ishes in that warfare. Strikes are the efforts of wares to 
act like men. 

We also hold as a matter of course, that eight hours of hard 
daily work, is a sufficient, more than a sufficient, task for a 
mere living. 

But we are at the same time convinced that Trades-unions 
and all these efforts of theirs are absolutely impotent to coun- 



68 THE CULMINATION. 

ceract the workings of " unrestricted private enterprise." 

The Trades-unions of England have indeed succeeded in rais- 
ing the wages in various trades and shortening the daily toil — 
yes, they and they only^ have succeeded in procuring for the 
English w^orking-classes the great boon of a nine-hours 
working day, — but only because the masters have not conibined 
sufficiently. Strikes must necessarily fail, if due resistance 
be made, because the immediate effect of them is to deprive 
the worker of his means of subsistence, and the capitalist of 
his profit simply. When '^ wares " try to act like men, they 
naturally fail, for wares are only things. 

And suppose the Trades-union movement of England to ac- 
complish its ultimate object : that of uniting all the workers 
of all the trades of Great Britain into one compact, compre- 
hensive body, the result will evidently be, that the employers 
and capitalists will be compelled to follow suit ; that is, such 
a union of workingmen will call into existence a Power, that 
can crush them at the first trial of strength. 

The writer of this is, furthermore, decidedly of the opinion 
that the efforts to establish in our country by law a normal 
working day of eight hours will prove equally futile. 

We shall not enlarge upon the point, that one state of the 
Union cannot afford to establish it, except all states do so ; 
that therefore national legislation is the only object worth 
striving for. But what sort of legislation? Our Congress and 
some local legislatures have passed laws which fix eight hours 
as a working day for government employees and which pro- 
vide, or at least imply, that the same wages shall be paid for 
the eight as formerly for the ten hours. All friends of an 
eight-hour law agree as to the propriety and expediency of 
these statutes, and claim, that if honestly enforced, they will 
by the example they set lead— nay, compel— private employ- 
ers to follow suit. 

Have they done that so far? Some of the noblest and most 
unselfish of martyrs witness by their gray hairs or the broken 
hearts with which they have gone to their graves, that these 
statutes have had no such effect, that they have had no effect 
at all ; that they have, indeed, been nothing but dead letters. 



THE CULMINATION. 69 

Ah, but if they had been enforced, it would have been differ- 
ent, it is said. May it not be that there is one underlying rea- 
son, why they have not been enforced and why they could 
not have affected other laborers if, perchance, they had been 
enforced? The point is, that the less does not include the 
greater. Under the Established Order our national Govern- 
ment and all state governments are on exactly the same foot- 
ing as private parties and the employment they give is but a 
small part of all employments. It is therefore the rate of wages 
paid in private employments and the hours of labor obtaining 
there which, as long as this system lasts, will regulate public 
employments, and not reversely. To hope that it will be oth- 
erwise is Utopian. 

There are more radical eight-hour men, among them many So- 
cialists, who agitate for an enactment to the effect, that all pri- 
vate employers who work their men more than eight hours a 
day (^and presumably, that all wage-workers who work more 
than that number of hours) shall be punished in a certain way. 
Thej'' do not care whether anything is provided about wages, 
arguing that, if eight hours become a normal work-day, wages 
will soon rise to their former level, all other things being equal, 
— in which we agree with them. But it seems to be entirely 
overlooked in all discussions on such an enactment of a na- 
tional character, that it requires a constitutional amendment. 
We for our part believe that we might just as soon expect to 
have this nation changed into a Socialist Commonwealth by a 
constitutional amendment, passed in the constitutional way, 
as such a compulsory eight-hour law. But we need say nothing 
further here, for we are discussing the workings of unrestrict- 
ed private enterprise, of the '■'/ree use " of private property. 
Only one word more. It may be objected that we admitted 
that the Trades-Unions of England did obtain a nine-hour 
work-day in England; and that in many of our states a ten- 
hour law prevails and is obeyed. There is perhaps a misap- 
prehension here. There is neither here nor in England any le- 
gal normal working-day for men. Whatever legal restriction 
exists applies to women and children exclusively, and as to 
them even only, when they are working in factories, The 



70 THE CULMINATION. 

English Trades-Unions did succeed, for the time being, in wi*est- 
ing from their employers their consent to a nine-hour work- 
day, simply because at the time the market-demand exceeded 
the supply. 

A fourth " remedy," advocated by the Greenbaek-party — of 
whose doctrines we shall have more to say in another place — 
is that the Government should advance to its citizens all the 
capital they may be in need of, at a very low rate of interest, 
say one per cent. This "remedy," which was also the hob- 
by of Proudhon, we can dismiss with a very few words. Even 
if it were not impossible, what it is as we shall afterwards see, 
it would not help the masses in the least. The proportion be- 
tween wages and lieeclngs in our "• cakes" remains the same, 
whether interest is large or small. The reduction of interest 
Avould simply increase the balance of fleecings which go to 
profit and rent. Such a measure, if practicable, would thus 
only benefit the employing class, the small producer and mer- 
chant, and, possibly, the landowners. 

But then, the Greenback-party is a middle-class-party, that 
is to say : a reactionary partj^ as Proucihon was a reactionist ; 
for the middle-class (what we in America call the '' middle- 
class" and the English the '' lower middle-class ") is doomed 
to extinction. 

Thus it truly seems. Dr. Woolsey! that "this enormous 
accumulation of Capital in a few hands " is to be a "• necessary 
evil, beyond prevention!" It, undoubtedly, vnll "run through all 
the forms of propert3^" Our manufticturers, our merchant 
" princes," our transporters, our money lenders, and, finally, 
our land owners will go on dwindling in numbers, as they 
swell in size. The millionaires will gobble up the Cap- 
ital of the whole middle-class, and the more their own pos- 
sesssions grow, the wilder will be their chase after the 
smaller game. Our working classes, on the other hand, will 
go on being gathered into larger centres. There is no "if at 
all about the matter and there is, absolutely, no patent med- 
icine in the market that can prevent it. 



THE CULMINATION. 71 

But is it philosophical to call that '' an em7," Dr. \Voolsey? 

When a child is growing its teeth it is, we know, a season 
of misery to it : yet we do not therefore call the process of 
teething an '' evil." What if the present and future workings 
of " capitalism," that is of the " free use " of Capital were the 
teething period of Society? VV^e know, of course, that the 
paralel is imperfect ; for there is this terrible difference, that 
in the latter case the suffering of myriads of sentient beings 
is involved, for which reason the agitation for shortening the 
daily toil and all other efforts to alleviate the condition of the 
working-classes are worthy of all our sympathy. 

Just as the teething process runs its course according to the 
physical laws of our organization, and must run its course, so 
the centralization of all social activities goes on according to 
law^s indwelling in our social organism, and to stop it. if w^e 
could, would be turning back the wheels of progress. This is 
the consolation left to the self-sacrificing eight-hour agitators 
for the failure of their efforts. For there is no doubt that, if 
they could succeed, the wage-workers would be rendered al- 
most satisfied with their lot as w^age-slaves, be reconciled to 
the wage-system^ just what the partial success of the Trades- 
Unions in England, unfortunately, seems to have done with 
the British wage- workers. 

When the culmination is reached, then comes the dawn. 

And what will be the culmination? 

That the Established Order will be dying of exhaustion. 
This conclusion lay indeed, potentially, in our exposition of 
''Value " in chapter I, wherefore we also there called it the 
'"mother-idea" of Socialism. Since all real Values are the 
results of Labor, and since Labor under our wage-system, our 
profit-system, our fleecings-system,only receives about one- 
half thereof as its share, it follows that the producers cannot buy 
hack that which they create, 

Now^ we can see, that this wage-system concerns the 
whole Nation, and not merely the wage-workers, as we 
for argument's sake granted at the commencement of Chapter 
n. For the more Capital is being accumulated in private 
hands, the more impossible this wage-system renders it for the 



72 THE CULMINATION, 

producers to buy what they produce. The more necessary- 
it becomes for capitalists to dispose of their ever increasing 
fleecings, the 1 ess the ability of the people to purchase them 
will, relatively, become. The greater the supply the smaller the 
consumption. The more Capital, the more "■ overproduction." 

This is a fatal contradiction. This '' Individualism " which 
has created and nourished Capital and is making it bigger and 
bigger, is at the same time digging the grave of Capital. 

The logic of the upholders of the present Social Order, when 
they fancy it will last forever, or hope, that it, like its prede- 
cessors, will last for a thousand years, is sadly at fault. Slavery 
and Serfdom were long-lived, because they rested on broad 
endurable foundations, so that they had a chance to petrify ; 
their nature, in other words, was stahilUtj. But our Social Or- 
der cannot exist witliout repeated industrial revolutions : its 
very nature is insecurity and movement. It can be fitly compared 
to a spinning top which only is saved from toppling over by 
being made to turn swiftly about on its apex. It is unrestrict- 
ed Private Enterprise which imparts to our Social Order this 
wild movement. But just as the top is sure to finally topple 
over, so is this Social Order of ours. ^ 

That is the '-Logic of Events." That events have logic 
simply means, that '^ statesmen " and *' leaders" have none. 

And we have no need of trusting to logic ; we need only 
trust our senses. Any one who has eyes to see can perceive 
tlfis Social Order tottering, not alone in our own country, but 
in all industrial countries. Do we not hear from everywhere 
the cry of the fleecers : ''Foreign markets! We mitsi have 
foreign markets !?" Did we not say that the fleecers had ex- 
cellent reasons of their own for hunting for them? This cry 
is the first frantic death-gasp of Capitalism, showing it is dying 
of inanition. What better evidence need we? Socialists might 
simply fold their arms and calmly await its dissolution. Thus 
our plutocrats, who a hundred years ago untied the fetters 
that bound all industrial and social relations in their unyield- 
ing embrace, now find themselves in the position of the ma- 
gician who unloosed the elemental forces of N"ature, and after- 
wards, not being able to control them, was overwhelmed by 



THE CULMINATION. 73 

them. 

We are approaching the culmination with giant strides, with 
railroad speed, in fact. Every invention that renders produc- 
tion on a smaller scale more unprofitable, every bankruptcy, 
every so-called '• crisis " brings us nearer to the end. 

Then will come the real '^ crisis.'''' We do not say it will not 
come before ; but, if not before, it will surely come with the 
culmination. 

And then, what? 

Well, Political Economy cannot tell us ; it came in with the 
present Social order, and it will go out with it ; its whole scope 
is to bring the present social arrangements into a system. 

Only Socialism can lift the veil of the future, for it only con- 
templates this Social Order and the whole previous history of 
our race with a philosophic eye. Therefore it can predict with 
the same claim to certainty, with which the Signal Service Bu- 
reau predicts to-morrow's weather. 

There are two alternatives. Barbarism may be the outcome. 
But we do not believe it will. 

Thoughtful men observe that there never before was diffusec 
through society so large a sense of unhappiness. Our large 
accessions and acquisitions of comfort have enhanced and ag- 
gravated our ideas of poverty. Capitalists, for their own pur- 
poses, have taught the masses a thousand needs, and at the 
same time rendered it impossible for them to satisfy these needs. 
Society is from top to bottom seized by discontent — next to 
hope the greatest gift from the gods to man. 

There is an old saga of a King and Queen to whom a fair 
son was born. Twelve fairies came to the christening, each 
with a gift. A noble presence, wisdom, strength, beauty — 
all w^ere poured upon him until it seemed he must excel all 
mortal men. Then came the twelfth fairy with the gift of dis- 
content, but the angry father turned aw^ay the lairy and her 
gift. And the lad grew apace, a wonder of perfect powers ; 
but, content in their possession, he cared to use them for neith- 
er good nor ill; thei'e was no eagerness in liim ; good-natured 
and quiet, he let life use him as it would. And at last the King 



74 THE CULMINATION^. 

knew that the rejected had been the crowninp: gift. 

Again, the masses are becoming more and more intelligent, 
too intelligent to submit to a new slavery, or a new serfdom. 
Tlie worldng-masses now feel themselves human beings and 
have become conscious of their power; their concentration in 
large centres of industry has given them that consciousness, 
which, perhaps, will make them too impatient to await the fi- 
nal crash. 

And then — we Socialists have now been born into the worlds a 
guarantee, that Society will go forward, not backwards. 

The other alternative is Dr. Woolsey's : " that a revolution^ 
slow or rapid, will certainly bring about a new order of things.'^'' 
There we agree with him. 

Whatever is, is no? the immutable order of nature. It is very 
natural that our well-to-do classes should believe ihat arrange- 
ments which suit them have been settled by some law of the 
Medes and Persians ! nevertheless when these arrangements 
have done their work they are destined to disappear. But 
whatever is, is rational. It exists, because, and so long as it ful- 
fills some useful office. 

Private Enterprise has done civilization excellent service, but 
after having run this Social '•' Order " into the ground it will 
be supplanted by a new principle : Social Cooperation., up to 
which the whole Martyrdom of Man during his whole previ- 
ous history has been training us. " Individualism," a rhythmi- 
cal swing of the human mind, will then commence its back- 
ward movement and find its compensation in due time. 

The divorce between Capital and Labor will cease. Cap- 
ital will no longer be the master of Labor but, as true Nation- 
al Wealth, the invaluable hand-maid of Labor. 

The steward of that National Wealth will be the State ; it 
having, as we shall now see, a title to all Capital, para- 
mount to that of either capitalists or laborers. 



CHAPTER IV. 



THE SPHEEE OF THE STATE. 



"It is only by being citizen of a well-ordered State, that the 
individual has got PAghts.''— Hegel. 

'" Not State-action in itself, but State-action exercised by a 
hostile class itisthat ought to be dei[)Tecsite(\.^^—3IaUhew Arnold. 

''Look to the State ! From that you can expect the highest 
experience and skill, real and efficient control, a national aim 
and spirit." — Frederic Harrison. 

We have concluded the Socialist critique of the present or- 
der of tilings. In a nutshell it is this : The Fleecings increase 
in our country and in all industrial countries at a very great 
rate. In order that Capital (the sum of these Fleecings) may 
be simply maintained, (mark that !) it must be constantly em- 
ployed in production and a market must be found for the prod- 
ucts which it enables Labor to create. Foreign markets will 
soon dry up ; our autocrats, therefore, will be confined to their 
respective home-markets. But the masses at home are more 
and more becoming wage- workers from the operation of '' In- 
dividualism ; " wage-workers receive in wages only about half 
of what they produce; the masses, consequently, are becom- 
ing more and more unable to buy back the Values they create. 
Thus for lack of consumption, Capital will be more and more 



76 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 

threatened with depreciation. The more Capital, the more 
''overproduction." TheWage-System and Private '"Enter- 
prise" loill^ indeed, involve capitalists and laborers in one 
common ruin. 

This is the foundation for what may be called : " construct- 
ive" Socialism. We are not under the delusion, that Nations 
can be persuaded by the grandeur, excellence and equity of our 
system. The Future is ours, because the present system will 
soon be unbearable ; because, as we said, we might fold our arms 
and calmly wait to see the Established Order fall to pieces by 
its own weight. Our conception of Value, therefore, truly com- 
prises the lohole of Socialism. 

When the culmination has been reached, the reins will drop 
from the impotent hands of our autocrats and will be taken 
up by an impersonal Power, coeval with human nature : The 
State. 

It is a pity that we must commence by guarding ourselves 
against the corrupt American use of the term " State ; " but, 
writing mainly for our American countrymen, we cannot help 
ourselves. 

The "State" of Pennsylvania and the other thirty seven 
" States " are not, and never were. States. By State we mean 
with Webster " a whole people, united in one body politic." 
That is the meaning of State in all languages, Englisli included 
— except the American language. Now, not one of our Amer- 
ican -'states" was ever for one moment a " whole people." 
They either were subjects to the crown of England, or parts 
of the Confederation, or of the Union. The Union then is a 
State^ just as France and Spain are States, and it is emphati- 
cally so since the American people commenced to call them- 
selves a Nation with a big N. This, however, by no means 
excludes local centres of authority, what we are wont to call 
'• local self-government." 

" The State " is a stumbling block to many very worthy per- 
sons. They apprehend — a fear very honorable in them — that 
State-supremacy would be prejudicial to Freedom, We hope 
to make it apparent, that State-action and individual Freedom, 
far from being antagonistic, are really complementary of each 



THE SPHEEE OF THE STATE. 77 

other. 

The reason why " the State " is now-a-days such a bugbear 
to so many, is that this word has quite another meaning in the 
mouth of an individualist, wherever you find him, than when 
used by a Socialist. Indeed, the fundamental distinction be- 
tween '' Individualism " and Socialism must be sought in the 
opposition of these two conceptions. 

Individualists, and foremost amongst them our autocrats, 
cherish this degrading notion of the State : that it is merely 
an organ of Society, synonimous with •' Government " — with 
the political machinery ot Society. We claim — to quote Web- 
ster once more — that the State is " a whole people, united in 
one body politic," in other words, that 
Tlie State is the organized Society. 

We cannot better contrast these two conceptions than by 
comparing the views of Herbert Spencer w^hen he was a young 
philosopher with his present views now that he is a mature 
one. 

Young Spencer wrote a book, called "Social Statics," which 
to a great extent, has become a manual to our " let-alone " 
politicians. In that work he starts out with a " first princi- 
ple " from which he proposes to reason out, deductively, the 
whole science of government — a method, by the way, that is 
thought rather precarious by scientific men of to-day. This 
assumed axiom w^hich, undoubtedly, looks very captivating 
at first sight, is that '' every man has freedom to do all that 
he wills, provided he infringes not the like freedom of any oth- 
er man." From this *' principle " — of which we shall pres- 
ently have more to say — he proves with flawless logic, 
that Society is simply a voluntary association of men for 
mutual protection and the State merely its organ to that end. 
The business of the State, therefore, is only to secure to each 
citizen unlimited freedom to exercise his faculties. Then, to 
be sure, the State has no right to tax men of property for ed- 
ucating other men's children, or for feeding the poor or even 
for looking after the Public Health. In taking upon itself 
these functions the State is acting the part of an aggressor in- 
stead of that of a protector. 



78 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 

The State is a policeman — notliiiig more. By and by, when 
the millennium arrives, the State will lose even that function ; 
it will become a rudimentary organ. The State will then dis- 
appear altogether. As long as it exists, it is nothhig but a 
necessary evil; only instituted for the bad, and only a burden 
to the good. If the facts do not verify that conclusion, so 
much the worse for the facts. If the State's activity does spread 
more and more, even in Spencer's own country — in response 
to the pressure of the " Logic of Events," and in spite of the 
frantic struggles of its ruling class : the wealthy middle-class 
— so much the worse for the State. 

Such was the reasoning of Spencer in 1850 ; and these views 
are accepted and practiced by the ruling powers of our coun- 
try, as far as in them lies. Our capital-holders cry out: 
*' You, State ! You Government ! Your w^hole business, you 
know, consists in securing us unlimited freedom to exercise 
our faculties. That is all we are doing here ; the whole crowd 
of us are exercising our faculties, each to the extent of his 
ability. It does not concern you a bit whom or how many 
we are able to fleece or how much we fleece them ; or how 
many fall and are trampled upon. Let us alone, then, and 
simply see to it that we are not interfered with ! That is what 
you are paid for, you know. " 'Every one look out for him- 
self, and the devil take the hindmost,' is our and your rule 
of action." And the ''government " lets them alone. That 
is to say, it allows itself to be made into a peace-officer of a 
singular sort. For suppose a policeman should see a bully at- 
tack a weaker man, and should say to himself: '"'• It is not my 
business to protect that weak man or to interfere with the com- 
batants at all. I take it to be my duty, just to see to it that 
no one interferes with them. So I will make a ring round 
them and let the best man win." That is what our so called 
" Governments " virtually do, and so the shrewd greedy indi- 
viduals who can exercise their faculties do so to their heart's 
content and grow fat at the expense of other individuals. Prob- 
ably in no other age did individuals have such a power over 
their neighbors as they have now in consequence of this "let- 
alone " policy. Every factory, mine, workshop and railroad 



THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 79 

shows the workinfj; of it. The hidividiial Vanderbilt has ac- 
qnu-ed two hundred millions, while another individual — per- 
haps the producer of part of his fortune, — is sent to prison as 
a tramp. 

But that is all in order. For hear young Spencer : " The 
shouldering aside the weak by the strong, which leaves so 
many in shallows and miseries, is the decree of a large, for- 
seeing benevolence, regarded not separately, but in connection 
with the interests of universal humanity. To step in between 
weakness and its consequences suspends the progress of w^eed- 
ing out those of lower development " — and Vanderbilt and 
Gould, of course, are the " strong," and men ot " higher de- 
velopment! " 

Why do not those men of property — of "higher develop- 
ment" — abolish this good-for-nothing "State" altogether? 
Would, it not be a good speculation for them to let Courts of 
Justice to the highest bidder, and farm out the prosecution of 
wars to stock-companies ? Can they not buy protection against 
violence, as well as insurance against fire, and more cheaply 
too, on the glorious free-competition plan? Why do they not 
do it? 

Well, perhaps the State is something else than an organ 
after all. 

Herbert Spencer, the mature and profound philosopher, pur- 
sues the far more scientific method of studying Society, as it 
is, and the process of its development, instead of evolving it, 
as young Spencer did, out of his own inner consciousness. 

His results now are, that the body politic, instead of being 
a "voluntary" association is, what Socialists claim that it is, 
an Organism. 

Beside arguments in his other works he devotes a very able 
and ingenious essay to the drawing of parallels between a 
highly developed State and the most developed animals, and 
sums up : 

" That they gradually increase in mass ; that they become, lit- 
tle by little more complex ;that at the same time their parts grow 
more mutually dei>endent ; and that they continue to live and 
grow as wholes, while successive generations of their units 



80 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 

appear— and disappear — are broad peculiarities, which bodies 
politic display, in common with all living bodies, and in which 
they and other living bodies differ from everything else." 

In several striking passages Spencer farther shows with 
what singular closeness correspondences can be traced in the 
details between the two kinds of organisms, as, for instance, 
between the distributing system of animal bodies and the dis- 
tributing system of bodies politic, or between our economic 
division of labor, and that prevailing in organic bodies, '^ so 
striking, indeed, that the expression ' physiological division of 
labor' has been suggested by it." 

And some of the leading contrasts between the two kinds 
of organisms, he shows, are far less important than appears 
at first glance. Thus, the distinction that the living elements 
of Society do not, as in individual organisms, form one con- 
tinuous mass, disappears, when we consider that the former 
are not separated by intervals of dead space, but diftused 
through space, covered with life of a lower order, which min- 
isters to their life. And thus with this other peculiarity, 
that the elements of a social organism are capable of moving 
from place to place, is obviated by the fact, that as farmers, 
manufacturers and traders, men generally carry on business 
in the same localities ; that, at all events, each great centre of 
industry, each manufacturing town or district, continues al- 
ways in the same place. 

There is then but one distinction left that may be deemed 
material. In the Social Organism the living units are con- 
scious, while in the animal organism it is the whole that 
possesses consciousness. 

But then those other highly developed organisms, — to wit : 
the vegetable ones, — have no consciousness at all. Society 
could then be considered a mighty plant whose units are high- 
ly developed animals. 

Again, though the social organism has no consciousness of 
its own, it certainly has a distinctive character of its own; a 
corporate individuccliti/ySi corporate '' oneness." As a unit of 
that organism every individual certainly displays a wholly dif- 
ferent character from that of the organism itself. Every Nation 



THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 81 

has its own spirit, which tlie Germans call the " Volksgeist-^^^ 
a spirit which has its life in the national history, which pro- 
duces specific traits of nationality, differing from the com- 
mon traits of humanity. It generally lies deep, hidden, un- 
suspected until such a moment arrives as that with us, when 
Fort Sumter was fired upon ; then rising, as it were, out of 
an abyss it urges thinkers and actors resistlessly on to pursue 
unwittingly, the loftiest ideal of the race. 'I'his corporate in- 
dividuality is far from being identical with average '' Public 
Opinion." It is sui generis and makes the Social Organism an 
organism sui generis. 

We therefore insist, with even greater force than Spencer 
did, that the State is a living Organism, diflering from other 
organisms in no essential respect. This is not to be under- 
stood in a simply metaphorical sense ; it is not that the State 
merely resembles an organism, but that it, including with the 
people the land and all that the land produces, literally is 
an organism^ personal and territorial. 

The " Government " — the punishing and restraining author- 
ity — may possibly be dispensed with at some future time. 
But the State — never. To dispense with the State would be 
to dissolve Society. 

It follows that the relation of the State, the body politic, to 
us, its citizens, is actually that of a tree to its cells, and not 
that of a heap of sand to its grains, to which it is entirely in- 
different how many other grains of sand are scattered and 
trodden under foot. 

This is a conception of far-reaching consequence. 

In the first place, it, together with the modern doctrine of 
Evolution.! as applied to all organisms, deals a mortal blow to 
the theory of "man's natural rights," the theory of man's 
''inalienable right" to life, liberty, property, ''happiness" 
&c., the theory of which mankind during tiie last century has 
heard and read so much ; the theory that has been so as- 
siduously preached to our dispossessed classes, and which has 
benefitted them so little ! 

The highest " natural right " we can im- 



82 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 

agine is for the stronger to kill and eat the weaker, and for 
the weaker to be killed and eaten. One of the ' ' natural rights," 
left ^'man" now, is to act the brute towards wife and children, 
and that '' right " the State has already curtailed and will by- 
and-by give it the finishing stroke. Another "■ natural right," 
very highly prized by our autocrats, is the privilege they now 
posses of '^ saving" for themselves what other people pro- 
duce. In brief, "- natural rights " are the rights of the muscu- 
lar, the cunning, the unscrupulous. 

These so-called "natural rights" and an equally fictitious 
" law of nature " were invented by Jean Jacques Rousseau 
(who followed Luther and the other Reformers in the work of 
making breaches in the old petrified System of the Middle 
Ages) as a metaphysical expedient to get some sanction to 
legitimate resistance to absolute authority in kings, nobility 
and clergy. He derived them from a supposed '" state of na- 
tm-e" which he and his disciples as enthusiastically praised as 
if they had been there and knew all about it. Now, modern 
historical comparative methods prove conclusively that this 
'•''State of nature" never existed. A man, living from the 
moment of his birth outside organized society, if this were 
possible, would be no more a man than a hand would be a 
hand without the body. Civil society is man^s natural state. 
This •' state of nature," on the other hand, would be for man 
the most unnatural state of all, and fortunately so, for in it 
we should not have been able to make the least headway 
against our conditions, but must have remained, till the pres- 
ent moment, hungry, naked savages, whose '-'' rights " would 
not procure us a single meal. And as to a " law of nature," 
if it is proper to use that term at all, it is nothing but the con- 
science and reason of civil society. 

No, Rousseau did say several things worth notice— as any 
author who is being refuted a century after his death must 
have done. These speculations of his are indeed worth notice, 
to us Americans especially, since they formed the logical basis 
of our own '• epoch-making " Revolution— as a German might 
happily call it— though we cannot help remarking that the 
conclusion here justified the premises, rather than the reverse. 



THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 83 

And, further, they also furnished the justification, the steam- 
power, for the great Freucli Revolution. The incidents of the 
latter event, however, showed that Rousseau could, under cer- 
tain circumstances, be a very unsafe guide ; they demonstrated 
that the '' Natural Rights of Man " were good tools to tear 
down rotten systems with, but sandy foundations on which 
to erect new systems. 

We have been out-spoken on this matter, because it is so im- 
portant that thoughtful people should know that philosophic 
Socialists repudiate that theory of 'Miatural rights," and in- 
sist that the lesson taught by Rousseau and repeated (why 
not say so outright?) in our own Declaration of Indej)end- 
ence must be unlearned before any firm foundation can be 
reached. Unfortunately nearly all our "reformers" — men with 
the noblest and often truly Socialist hearts— oling to it and build 
on man's '* God given- Rights " as if they were the special 
confidants of God. 

But Carlyle is emphatically right when he says '' Nothing 
solid can be founded on shams ; it must conform to the reali- 
ties the verities of things." 

Here is such a reality : 

It is Society^ organized Society, the State that gives us all the 
rights we have. To the State we owe our freedom'. To it we 
owe our living and joroperty, for outside of organized Society 
man's needs far surpasses his means. The humble beggar 
owes much to the State, but the haughty millionaire far more, 
for outside of it they both would be worse off than the beggar 
now is. To it we owe all that we are and all that we 
have. To it we owe our civilization. It is by its help 
that we have reached such a condition as man individual- 
ly never would bave been able to attain. Progress is the 
struggle with Nature for mastery, is war with the misery and 
inabilities of our '' natural " condition. The State is the or- 
ganic union of us all to wage that war, to subdue ]^ature, to 
redress natural defects and inequalities. The State therefore, 
so far from being a burden to the '" good," a '' necessary evil," 
is man's greatest good. 

Tills conception of the State as an organism thus consigns 



84 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 

the " rights of man " to obscurity and puts Duty in the fore- 
ground. 

In the second place, we now can ascertain the true spliere of 
the State. That is, we now can commence to build something 
solid. 

We say Sphere on purpose ; we do not ask what are the 
" rights," '' duties " or ''functions " of the State, for if it truly 
is an organism it is just as improper to speak of its rights, du- 
ties or functions towards its citizens as it is to speak of a 
man's rights, duties and functions in relation to his heart, hjs 
legs, or his head. The State has riglits, duties and functions 
in relation to other organisms, but towards its own members 
it has only a sphere or activities. 

The sphere of the State simply consists in caring for its own 
welfare, just as a man's sphere, as far as himself is concerned, 
consists in caring for his own well-being. If that be proper- 
ly done, then his brain, his lungs and his stomach will have 
nothing to complain of. 

So with the State. Its whole sphere is the making all spec- 
ial activities work together for one general end : its own wel- 
fare, or the Public Good. Observe that the Public Good, the 
General Welfare, implies far more than "- the greatest good to 
the greatest number" on which our "practical " politicians 
of today base their trifling measures. Their motto broadly sanc- 
tions the sacrifice of minorities to majorities, while the " Gen- 
eral Welfare " means the greatest good of every individual 
citizen. 

To that end the State may do anything whatsoever which 
is shown to be expedient. 

It may, as it always has done, limit the right of a person to 
dispose of himself in marriage as he pleases. 

The State is, in the words of J. S. Mill, ••' fully entitled to 
abrogate or alter any particular right of property which it 
judges to stand in the way of the public good." 

The State may tomorrow, if it judges it expedient, take all 
the capital of the country from its present owners, without 
any compensation whatsoever, and convert it into social Cap- 
ital. 



THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 85 

In Chapter 1 we showed that the whole wealth of the coun- 
try (^. e. not natural wealth but the sum of all Values) is 
the result of Labor. As against capitalists the producers, 
therefore, would clearly be entitled to it. But as against the 
State, the organized Society, even Labor does noc give us a 
particle of title to what our hands and brain jDroduce. 

One need not be a Socialist to acknowledge that. 

Wm. B. Weeden, a manufacturer in Providence, R. I., says 
in a criticism on Henry George's book in the Atlantic Month- 
ly for Dec. 1880 : 

"•The axe you use is not yours, though you may have made 
it, instead of buying it in the market. The idea of the axe, 
its potentiality, which enables it to prevail over nature, does 
not belong to you. This is the result of long generations of 
development, from the rudest stone-tool to the elegant steel- 
blade which rings through the pine-woods of Maine. This 
belongs to Society. N either the laborer nor the caiDitalist owns 
that principle. So everywhere. Neither Labor nor Capital 
employs the other. It is Society which employs both." 

To whom does the telegraph belong? To Society. Neither 
Prof. Morse nor any other inventor can lay sole claim to it. 
It grew little by little. 

With still greater force the State may reclaim possession of 
all the land within its limits, all laws, customs and deeds to 
the contrary notwithstanding. 

We say " with still greater force," not because the owner- 
ship of land is on a different footing from that of other Cap- 
ital. Its Value, like that of other Capital, is partly real, aris- 
ing from the labor of this and former generations, and partly 
unreal, due to the monopoly of it and the constantly increas- 
ing necessities of the community. It therefore is the creation 
of Society as much as other Capital. We say so because the 
Common Law of Great Britain and our country has always 
claimed, and still does claim that the State is the sole landlord : 

" The first thing the student has to get rid of is the abso- 
lute idea of ownership. Such an idea is quite unknown to the 
English law. No man is, in law, the absolute owner of lands ; 



86 TIIE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 

he can only hold an estate in them." Williams : On the law 
of Beal Property. 

When, therefore, the Trinity Church Corporation of New 
York City claims to own city property of sufficient value to 
pay all the debts of the State of New York, its cities and vil- 
lages, a value mainly created by the tenants who have covered 
that tract of land with buildings, graded and paved the streets 
and built the sewers, it is simply a glaring usurpation, 

When, therefore, the increased values of Real Estate, due 
simply to the progress of the country, are permitted, in the 
form of increased rents '-to drop into the mouths of landown- 
ers as they sleep instead of being applied to the public neces- 
sities of the Society which created it " in the words of Mill, 
ii is only because the too *' enterprising" individual has got 
the better of the State. 

For the same reason the landowner has been permitted to 
possess whatever treasure may be hidden in it, even treasure 
of which no man knew anything, when the owner entered in- 
to possession — an allowance, than which no one more foolish 
or absurd could be imagined. 

For the same reason the splendid opportunities which our 
country had, both in the reconstruction of the Southern States 
and in the settlement of our public lands, for making the Na- 
tion the sole Landlord, were not so much as thought of. 

Our landowners ought to admit with Blackstone: *'We 
seem to fear, that our titles are not quite good ; it is well the 
great mass obey the laws without inquiring why they were 
made so and not otherwise." 

But there is no need to devote more space here to discuss 
the supreme title of the State to the land since the appearance 
of Henry George's book: '' Progress and Poverty," which 
we hope all our readers have read. The main criticism which 
Socialists have to make on this work is that it pushes the land 
question — in our country a secondarv question in importance 
— so much into the foreground, that sight is entirely lost of 
the principal question: Who should control the instruments 
of production and transportation? Furthermore, George seems 
to have written his book for Englishmen, Scotchmen and Irish- 



THE SPHEEE OF THE STATE. 87 

men, rather than for Americans. To start the solution of the 
social problem in our country, where as yet the great majority 
of farmers own the land which they cultivate, with a propo- 
sition to divest all landowners of their titles, is to commence 
by making a very large portion of the workers to be benefit- 
ed hostile to all social change. 

The State is thus fully entitled to take charge of all the in- 
struments of Labor and Production, and to say that all social 
activities shall be carried on in a perfectly different manner. 

Undoubtedly the whole fleecing class will interpose their 
socalled ^'vested rights." That is to say because the State 
for a long time tacitly allowed a certain class to divide the 
common stock of social advantages among themselves and ap- 
propriate it to their own individual benefit therefore the State 
is estopped, they say, from ever recovering it. And not alone 
will they claim undisturbed possession of what they have, but 
also the right to use it in the future as they have in the past ; 
that is, they will claim a " vested right " to fleece the masses 
to all eternity. 

But such a protest will be just as vain as was that of the 
Pope against the loss of his temporal sovereignty. The theory 
of " vested rights " never applies when a revolution has taken 
place ; when the whole structure of Society is changed. The 
tail of a tadpole that is developingjnto a frog may protest as 
much as it pleases ; Nature heeds it not. And when the frog 
is an accomplished fact, there is no tail to protest. 

This whole doctrine of ''vested rights " moreover, has its 
reason in the fact that from the dawn of history to the pres- 
enttime we have had and hsLYejorivileged classes. Henry George 
remarks very pointedly: "When we allow '• vested rights ' 
we still wear the collar of the Saxon thrall." The only ''vested 
right " any man has is the right to such institutions as will best 
promote the Public Good. A man has no other right what- 
ever in a civilized community. If he is not satisfied with 
that, he may exile himself to where there is no civilization, and 
even there his decendants will necessarily grow up into a State. 

Observe further, that the Public AVelfare means more than 
the welfare of all the living individuals composing it. Since 



88 THE SPHEBE OF THE STATE. 

the State is an organism, it is more than all of us collectively. 

It would be absurd to say, that a man is nothing but an ag- 
gregation of his cells. Burke said rightly of the State, that 
it includes the dead, the living and the coming generations. 
We are what we are far more by the accumulated influence of 
past generations than by our own efforts and our labor will 
principally benefit those who are to follow us. The Public 
Welfare thus includes the welfare of the generations to come. 
This comprehensive conception places the pettiness and im- 
potency of our ''individualism" in the most glaring light. 
For how can it ever be the private interest of mortal individ- 
uals to make immediate sacrifices for the distant future? 

" But if the State's Sphere is to be extended to everything 
that may affect the Public Welfare, why ! then there is no 
stopping to what the State will attempt." 

We let Professor Huxley reply (''Administrative Nihilism.") 

" Surely the answer is obvious, that, on similar grounds, the 
right of a man to eat when he is hungry, might be disputed, 
because if you once allow that he may eat at all there is no 
stopping, until he gorges himself and suffers all the ills of a 
surfeit." 

Does it not now seem more profitable, especially to our dis- 
possessed classes, to lay stress on Duty rather than on Bights? 

Does our conception of the State not furnish a very firm 
foundation, firm enough to build a New Social Order on? 

Let us then give due credit to Herbert Spencer for his pro- 
found speculations on the Social Organism. He has indeed, 
in them laid the foundation for constructive Socialism, as far 
as the Anglo-Saxon peoples are concerned, just as Ricardo by 
his speculations on Value did it for critical Socialism. True, 
Spencer is still the apostle of ''Individualism;" he exhibits 
still a morbid aversion to all State-activity, but we have a right 
to call his present utterances on that point mere crotchets, 
since they do not receive the least support from his splendid 
arguments in favor of the organic character of Society. 

That is also Professor Huxley's opinion. He says: "I 
cannot but tiiink, that the real force of the analogy is totally 



THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 89 

opposed to the negative (individualistic) view of the State- 
function. 

•' Suppose that in accordance with this view, each muscle 
were to maintain, that the nervous system had no right to in- 
terfere with its contraction except to prevent it from hin- 
dermg the contraction of another muscle; or each gland, 
that it had a right to secrete, as long as its secretion inter- 
fered with no other; suppose every separate cell left free to 
follow its own interests and be '• let alone.' Lord of all ! what 
would become of the body physiological?" 

This negative view of the State-function is a very modern 
one. Ko thinker or philosophic Stateman up to the 18th cen- 
tury anywhere dreamt of it. Not until the exaggerated form 
of the Protestant doctrine of the independence of the individ- 
ual had taken possession of men's minds ; not until the great 
delusion had become prevalent, that we have been brought 
into this world, each for the sake of himself, did it come in- 
to vogue. Then it was that William von Humboldt (who may 
be said to be the father of the doctrine) deliberately degraded 
the State below a peace-officer or a watch-dog. 

But even ultra-Protestant nations that adopted this view in 
theory have constantly been impelled by an inward necessity 
to repudiate it in practice. It forbids the State, as we have 
seen, to concern itself about the poor, and yet the Poor law 
of Elizabeth (still in force in Great Britain and our country) 
confers upon every man a legal claim to relief from funds ob- 
tained by enforcing a contribution from the general communi- 
ty. It forbids the State to concern itself about schools, libra- 
ries, universities, asylums and hospitals, and yet it concerns it- 
self more and more with them. England is to this day proud 
of having spent a hundred million of dollars iii abolishing 
slavery in her colonies, and in these latter day's she is spread- 
ing her activity over railroads and telegraphs, without the 
least apparent compunction of conscience. And our country, 
(especially under democratic control the champion of this 
'' let alone " abomination) finds today her chief glory in hav- 
ing torn slavery lip by the roots with its strong national arm. 
But let it, in the third place, be emphatically understood. 



90 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 

that when we insist that the State ought to extend its sphere 
over all social activities, we do not mean the present State 
at all. 

Our Republic is a State. Parliamentary Great Britain is a 
State. Imperial Germany, autocratic Russia and bureaucratic 
China, are all social organisms. But not one of them is a full 
grown State, a tully developed organism. In all of them, 
our own country included, classes exercise the authority and 
direct all social activity. 

Do not here bring forward the insipid commonplace that, 
properly speaking, we have no '•'■ classes " in our country and 
that the " people " govern here ! No classes? Indeed ! 

Roam around in New York, Boston, Philadelphia or any of 
our towns above a countrj^-village, for that matter, and you 
will find them all mapped out into districts stricth' according 
to the iDOverty or wealth of the inhabitants. Those who live 
in the poorer districts along neglected dirty streets in badly 
arranged and badly furnished houses constitute a lower caste 
in fact, since nine-tenths of them esmnot by ajiy possibility^ un- 
der our Social system, get out of it. They and their children 
after them must remain in their poverty, squalor and degrada- 
tion as long as this system endures. In the healthy, beauti- 
ful and comfortable quarters we find those who arrogate to 
themselves the name of " Society, " our " best people," *'prom- 
inent citizens." 

Which of these two classes govern — the majority living in 
tenement-houses, back-alleys and ill-smelling neighborhoods 
or the minority in the aristocratic districts? 

It is frequently remarked that '' our best people " have with- 
drawn themselves from politics. Suppose that is so — though 
it is also noticed that men of wealth lately have secured seats 
in Congress to such an extent that our national Senate, to a 
great extent, consists of very rich people — still that is very 
little to the point. For, since the State is the organized So- 
ciety, "' politics " constitute bat a trifle of the Social activi- 
ties, compared with the various forms of industry. We have 
seen that it is our '' prominent citizens " who control our man- 
ufactures, transportation and commerce, who indeed exercise 



THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 91 

an autocratic control over these, and that they are destined to 
do the like in agriculture within a short time. Their control over 
the transporting interests of the country,— interests so dom- 
inant that it has been justly said : '' He who controls the high- 
ways of a Nation, controls the Nation itself '• — is indeed so su- 
preme that Vanderbilt is reported to have observed with re- 
freshing candor: "The roads are not run for the benefit of 
''the dear public." No matter, whether he has been so candid 
or not, they certainly are not. 

Fulitics then form but a very small part of our social activ- 
ities. The people are said to govern these; their "govern- 
ment," in fact, consists in choosing on election day between 
two sets of men presented for their suffrages. What that 
amounts to we shall see in another chapter, and shall here 
simply remark, that as soon as the one or the other setof meii 
have been elected they pass entirely out of the control of the 
voters. Who then control the actions of those thus chosen? 

We shall entirely pass by the ever-recurring charges of bri- 
bery of legislators and whole legislatures ; we shall pass by 
another reported candid admission by Vanderbilt : " When I 
want to buy up any politician I always find — the most purchase- 
able ; " we shall pass by the solemn declaration of a com- 
mittee of the legislature of the State of New York, that no 
bill could pass the Senate without Vanderbilt's consent. We 
let all these things pass as perhaps nonproven. 

But one thing is so evident that no one will dream of dis- 
I)uting it, as soon as its meaning is fairly understood ; these 
autocrats of our industrial affairs dictate the poliaj of the gov- 
ernment to legislatures and Congress, to presidents, governors 
and judges, and have dictated it since the establishment of our 
government. What we mean is simply what we have all along 
Insisted upon, that both our national and local governments 
throughout profess allegiance to the "let alone" policy; 
that all executive, legislative and judicial officers are trained 
from the day they enter school or college to look on public 
affairs through capitalistic spectacles. We simply mean to 
say that not one so-called statesman of any influence in either 
of the two great political parties ever dreams of interfer- 



92 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 

iiig with the " business " — interests of our plutocrats, if he 
can help it. They all echo the sentiment of Judge Foraker, 
the Rei)ublican candidate for governor of Ohio : " Capital is 
sensitive'^ it shrinks from the very appearance of danger."" 

What need then for them " to go into polities " when they 
already have their devoted retainers in every place of author- 
ity? 

They need have no fear ever to be interfered with as long 
as they retain their preeminent position in industrial affairs. 
The ruling class industrially will always be the ruling class 
politically. 

Therefore we say it is Utopian to hope to have a legal nor- 
mal working day of eight hours, much more so one of six hours, 
as Moody proposes in his Land and Labor., as long as the Es- 
tablished Order lasts. 

Therefore it is Utopian to hope to have land nationalized as 
George advocates, as long as we have the wage-system. 
Therefore capitalists will very likely succeed in their strenuous 
opposition to the proposition made by a late Postmaster Gen- 
eral, that the Nation shall take possession of the telegraphs 
of the country. But if they should at last be compelled to 
yield — because the necessities of the Social organism command 
it — they are sure to demand and receive extravagant compen- 
sation for their '' property," for the "• vested rights " of cap- 
italists have always been apjireciated, while as we already have 
noted the working-classes have never been thought entitled 
to compensation when new machinery drove them out of old 
employments. 

While now our autocrats generally are satisfied, and well 
may be satisfied, with their veto on all proposed public meas- 
ures, prejudicial to their sinister interests, and with interdict- 
ing all legislation in favor of the masses, they never have ob- 
jected to any State-action that would put money into their 
pockets. They have been, and still are to a great extent, ben- 
eficaries of the Nation, another proof that f^e?/ really govern, 
even politically. 

We all know that the National Government has presented 



THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 93 

six railroad companies with an empire of land as large as 
Great Britain and Ireland and half as much more, and in ad- 
dition has guaranteed bonds of theirs, which with accrued in- 
terest at the maturity of these honds will amount to more than 
180 million dollars. 

We have already seen, how the whole machinery of Govern- 
ment has been set and kept in motion to acquire foreign mar- 
kets for our autocrats and to prepare our working-classes for 
the requisite reduction in wages, simply that this wage-sys- 
tem might secure a new lease of life, however short and pre- 
carious and however injurious the effect which this policy 
would have on the condition of the workers. 

We see to-day, as our forefathers have often seen, how agi- 
tated the two great political parties of our country are on the 
questions of Free-Trade or Protection. This issue makes it 
so very plain how iDaramount the influence of our autocrats is 
in political affairs. It is our manufacturers who want protec- 
tion ; it is our commercial men who want free-trade. The form- 
er undoubtedly pretend, that protection benefits the laboring 
classes ; but that this claim is a mere sham is evident from the 
fact that they never have proposed to discourage the immigra- 
tion of foreign laborers ; that they would violently oppose a 
proposal to that effect; that they, on the contrary, always 
have done all they could to encourage foreign laborers to come 
here, that they even send agents over to Europe to coax them 
by false pretences over here. Our protectionist fleecers want 
protection for the results of Lahor^ but free-trade in Labor. The 
commercial men, on the other hand, whose interest it is to 
have free-trade in all things, never have objected to handsome 
gifts from Government for their ships in the guise of subsidies 
for the performance of mail-services. 

Class-rule is always detrimental to the welfare of the whole 
social organism, because classes, when in power, cannot help 
considering themselves pre-eminently the State. They, fur- 
thermore, cannot help being biased in favor of their siDccial 
interests and therefore are necessarily hostileto therest of the 
Nation, and as we daily see in our free-traders and protection- 
ists hostile to each other. Matthew Arnold speaks truly 



94 THE SPHEEE OF THE STATE. 

when he says that State-action by a hostile class ought to be 
deprecated. 

Our Republic, therefore, just as all other modern States, may 
properly be compared to some imaginable animal organism, 
where the blood, proceeding from the collective digestion, is 
principally diverted to the stomach or the brain, while the 
arms and legs are stinted as much as possible. 

This (7/ass-State will develop into a Commonwealth — bless 
the Puritans for that splendid English word ! It will develop 
into a State that will know of no *•* classes " either in theory 
or practice ; in other words into a State where the whole popu- 
lation is incorporated into Society. In the place of the present 
partially evolved organism in which the arms and legs, and 
to a great extent the brain, are stinted in blood as much as 
possible, we shall have an organism *' whose every organ shall 
receive blood in proportion to the work it does " in the lan- 
guage of Spencer. 

That is to say: the Commonwealth will he a 8tate of Equal- 
ity. 

It is said that " we already have equality," and when we 
ask the meaning of the phrase we are told that all are *'• equal 
before the law." If that were really the case — what it is not 
— it would be but a poor kind of equality. The cells of the 
root and of the flow^er in a plant are " equal; " the cells of 
the foot and of the heart in an animal are ''" equal," for they 
are all properly cared for ; the organism knows of no " higher " 
and "■ lower" organs or cells. And so it will be in the future 
Commonwealth ; there '' Equality " will mean that every unit 
of Society can truly say to any other unit : ''I am not less 
than a man, and thou art not more than a man." 

Again, contrast our famous Declaration of /;idependence with 
the new Declaration of /niej-dependcnce. The former claims 
for every citizen the '' right " to life, liberty and the pursuit 
of "'happiness." This declaration was evidently adopted by 
'* Individualists," as the French Revolution was a revolution 
of •Tudividualism,"for of what use is it to possess the '*• right " 
to do something, when you have not the power, the means, 
the opportunity to do it? Is this "'right to the pursuit of 



THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 95 

happiness " not a mocking irony to the masses who cannot pur- 
sue '' happiness?" We saw how the millionaire and beggar 
would be equall}^ miserable outside of the State, and behold, 
how much this Declaration of ^ 'Independence" has done for the 
former and how very little for the latter ! 

The future Commonwealth will help every individual to attain 
the highest development he or she has capacity for. It will 
lay a cover for everj'- one at Nature's table. ^' State "and 
^ State- /leZ/)" will be as inseparable as a piano and music. 

Do not now object, as ijoung Spencer did in '" Social Statics," 
that this means '' transforming every citizen into a grown-up 
baby ; " for the objection is not to the point at all. 

State-help is not to do away with a man's own efforts. I do 
not do away with a man's own efiorts, when I hand him a lad- 
der. I do not set aside his own exertions in cultivating a field, 
because I give him a plow. Our State does not render useless 
the powers ot a boy, when it furnishes him schools, teachers 
and libraries. Our Commonwealth will relieve none of self- 
help, but make self-help possible to all. It will help everybody 
to help himself. 

That is to say : this Commonwealth will be a Society all of 
whose units have a sense of belonging together, ot being re- 
sponsible for one another; a Society, pervaded by a feeling 
of what we, using a foreign word, call Solidarity^ but what 
we not inaptly may in English term Corporate Responsi- 
bility. 

It is worth noting that our modern Insurance companies, 
particularly those of Life-insurance, are teaching us that re- 
sponsibility, for do they not make the strong and temperate 
of us use their prolonged lives to pay up premiums which go 
to the progeny of the weak and reckless? 

•' But what about Liberty?" the reader may ask. 

Many worthy persons, as we said commencing this chapter, 
entertain the fear which shines forth in Mill's famous essay 
on ''Liberty;" the fear lest freedom should be drilled and 
disciplined out of human life, in order that the great mill of 
the Commonwealth should grind smoothly. To ascertain 
whether this fear is well grounded or not w^e must first know, 



96 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 

what we are to understand by the words : " Freedom " and 
"• Liberty." 

Everybody calls the not being oppressed : ''Liberty." That is, 
undoubtedly, an indispensable and yet, as has been said, a most 
insignificant fractional part of human freedom. Then, again, 
we mean by " Liberty" the not being restrained, being '' at 
Liberty " to do this or that. Now, that may be a good thing 
or otherwise. Whether it is the one or the other depends en- 
tirely upon the answer to the question : to do wliafi 

To be "at liberty" to be a tramp or to die of starvation, or 
to steal, or to be lodged in a jail are not good things. "We 
sometimes find a great lout in a railroad car who thinks he is 
" at liberty" to spread himself over four seats, but occasion- 
ally he finds out, that he is not ; that he must take his feet 
down and sit along. The liberty of this lout is the " liberty " 
which our shrewd, grasping, vulgar autocrats glorify, for it 
means the predominance of their interests over everybody else's 
interests, over the General Welfare. It is in the name of that 
''liberty" that all fleecing is done. 

Of that kind of liberty there always has been too much in 
the world — somewhere. That kind of liberty means slavery 
to somebody; means as the Yankee defined it " to do what he 
liked and make everybody else." 

Every struggle for real liberty has been a struggle against 
that sort of " Liberty," entrenched in classes. Progress de- 
mands the curbing of that kind of " liberty," and our Com- 
monwealth will use no gloves in handling it. 

The fact is, there is a radical difi'erence between liberty to 
do the right thing and liberty to do the wrong thing. That 
is why young Spencer could not draw any sound conclusion 
from his so-called " principle : " " that every man has freedom 
to do all that he wills provided he does not infringe on the 
like freedom of any other man," because no one can do any 
wrong act, without doing harm to other men; or as Professor 
Huxley puts it: ''The higher the state of civilization, 
the more completely do the actions of one member of the so- 
cial body influence all the rest, and the less possible is it for 
one man to do a wrong thing without interfering, more or less, 



THE SPHEEE OF THE STATE. 97 

with the freedom of all his fellow-citizens.'" 
As Liberty is such a hazy terra, why use it at all, when we have 
such a glorious word in the English language as jPreec^om^ 
There is the same difference between '•' Liberty " and " Free- 
dom" as between "Kight" and ''Might," between '* Fiction" 
and '^ Fact," between '' Shadow and "■ Substance." 

''Freedom " is something substantial. A man who is igno- 
rant is not free. A man who is a tramp is not free. A man 
who sees his wife and children starving is not free. A man 
who must toil twelve hours a day, in order to vegetate, is not 
free. A man who is full of cares is not free. A wage-worker, 
whether laborer or clerk, who every day for certain hours 
must be at the beck and call of a " master " is not free. As 
Shelley says in the Apostrophe to Freedom. 

"For the laborer thou art bread." 

Right so far. But Freedom is not alone bread, but leisure, 
absence of cares, self-determination, ability and means to do 
the right thing . Restraint very often is just requisite to de- 
velop that ability ; indeed. Restraint is the very life of Free- 
dom. 

Freedom is something the individual unaided can never 
achieve. He is as drift-wood in a flood. It is something to 
be conferred on him by a well organized body politic. 

Now certain people have altogether too much "liberty." 
Our Commonwealth will evolve that priceless good : Freedom, 

This is by no means a finished Humanity, but there is a con- 
stant unfolding, a steady advance towards completeness and 
perfection. True, this or that Nation may decay, but some 
other Nation then comes to the rescue. All that Socialists un- 
dertake to do is to ascertain the several stages so far reached 
by Humanity on its onward march, therefrom to infer the 
next advance that will be made by some one of the social or- 
ganisms in the van of progress, and then they reverently pro- 
pose to help Humanity in taking the next step. They full 
well know that all that individuals can do is to aid or check 
that onward movement, but that to stop it is even beyond a 
Czar's control. 



98 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 

We have observed that it is round the working-classes that 
the battle of progress has been waged; their condition has 
determined the stage of civilization, though history has given 
but scant account of them. During the two great periods 
that lie behind us : Slavery and Serfdom, they were in fact 
and in law subject to their lords who took the lion's share 
without disguise, as a matter of right. Based on that subjec- 
tion, however, there was an intense feeling of Unitij which 
pervaded the whole of Society ; a Unity that made these sys- 
tems so strong and so lasting, and without which Unity no 
social system can be enduring. But men rebelled against the 
subjection. Luther was fortunate enough to start that rebel- 
lion in the religious sphere, for it is always at the top that 
all radical changes commence. 

Tlien was inaugurated the era in which we are living, which 
really is nothing but a transition period between the two great 
systems of the past and another great system of the tuture, 
for it possesses no unity. It corresponds exactly to the transi- 
tion-period betweeen Slavery and Serfdom, when Christianity 
was striving for mastery. It is an era of anarchy, of criticism, 
of negations, of opposition, of hypocrisy, as this "was one. 
Instead of Slavery or Serfdom and Subjection we now have 
the wage-system and contracts. That is to say, while for- 
merly the lords appropriated the results of labor 
openly, they now do it underhandedly. The wage-work- 
er, if he will live, must agree to relinquish one-half of what 
he produces. There is, in fact, fully as much subjection now 
as formerly, but it has taken on a softer, a more hypocritic 
form. That is why the rebellion not only continues, but has 
reached down into the material sphere and is shaking the very 
foundation of Society. It will not cease before all slavish 
subjection is done away with. 

Then this '* Individualism," this re-action against unques- 
tioned submission, will find its compensation in another Unity. 
Everybody will again feel a dread of living for himself only. 
We shall have Corporate Besponsihility ^ Equality^ Freedom., all 
three combined in Inter-dependence, Social Cooperation. 
It is With the Social organism as with a harmoniously devel- 



THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 99 

oped man, who has three stages of growth : implicit obedi- 
ence, then restless self-assertion, at last intelligent,, loyal co- 
operation with what has a rightful claim to his allegiance. 

This Inter-dependence will find its practical expression in 
The Cooperative Commonwealth, which in the following 
chapter will be seen to be now expedient, for the first time in 
human history. 



CHAPTER V. 



EXPEDIENCY OF THE COOPER ATIYE COI^IMONWEALTH. 



'•The relations of structures are actually such, that, by the 
help of a central regulative system, each organ is supplied 
with blood in proportion to the work it does." — Herbert 
Spencer. 

"■No thinking man will controvert, that associated industry 
is the most powerful agent of production, and that the princi- 
ple of association is susceptible of further and beneficial de- 
velopment."— J. S. Mill. 

''All human interests, combined human endeavors and so- 
cial growths in this world, have at a certain stage of their de- 
velopment required organizing ; and work, the grandest of 
human interests, does now require it." — Carlijle. 

We now have reached our objective point: the Cooperative 
Commonwealth. 

The previous chapters were mere stepping-stones, leading us 
to where we are, but as such indispensable, for it is their reason- 
ing, rather than its own reasonableness which will determine 
whether the Socialist System is to be, like Thomas More's 
imaginary island, a " Utopia: " an un-reality^ or not. 

The observation in our Declaration of Independence "that 
mankind are more disposed to suffer while evils are sufferable 
than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which 



THE COOPERATIVE C0MM0JTWE4LTH. 101 

they are accustomed" is true of changes in forms of govern- 
ment, but much more true of alterations in the structure of 
Society. To these, in fact, Nations must be driven by an in- 
ward necessity. 

For this reason we had to show that the present chaotic sys- 
tem, with all instruments of Labor in private hands, will soon 
become unbearable and renders a change of some kind inev- 
itably impending. For this reason, further, we had to point 
out the significance of the recent factory and educational leg- 
islation and State-action in regard to railroads and telegraphs, 
accomplished or proposed in our country and Great Britain, 
and to show that this extension of the State's activity was a 
sign that Society is approaching a crisis in its development ; 
au indication that this transitory state in which we are living, 
after having lasted about as long as that other transitory state 
between Paganism and Christianity, is on the point of crys- 
tallizing into another enduring Social Order. 

These reflections will make it clear — and we cannot lay too 
much stress upon it — that Modern Socialists do not pretend to 
be architects of the New Order. That is to say ; they do not 
propose to demolish the present order of things, as we tear 
down an old building, and then compel humanity to rear a new 
edifice according to any plan that they have drawn. They 
have no such absurd idea, just because they know that Society 
is not an edifice at all, but an organism ; and men are not in 
the habit of "planning" the development of a dog or a rosebush. 

Eight here is the radical distinction between us. Socialists 
of the German school, and such Socialists as St. Simon and 
Fourier. These had the same faults to find with the present 
social order as we have ; they were, indeed, capital critics, but 
as reformers they were miserable failures simply because they 
wanted to be architects — inventors. They entirely ignored all 
social and pohtical conditions and wanted mankind to don their 
ready-made systems as men do ready-made clothes. Fourier 
fancied that he had only to publish his system and all classes 
of Frenchmen would eagerly embrace it and in the twinkling 
of an eye transform all France into •'phalansteries." St. Si- 



102 EXPEDIENCY OF 

mon went even to tlie length of having his first scheme patent- 
ed. 

They and all the old-style socialists represent the childhood 
of our movement, stand in the same relation to it as astrology 
and alchemy do to physical science. All great changes that 
have taken place in the world have had to pass through a 
"• Utopian " phase. These primitive Socialists were true"Uto- 
pists : " they invented Systems ; we are intent on discovering 
the laws of development. They framed universal precepts; 
we ascertain universal sequences. 

For what is ''the Cooperative Commonwealth?" 

Extend in your mind Division of Labor and all the other 
factors that increase the productivity of Labor ; apply them 
to all human pursuits as far as can he ; imagine manufactures, 
transportation and commerce conducted on the grandest possi- 
ble scale, aud in the most effective manner; then add to Di- 
vision of Labor its complement : Concert ; introduce adjust- 
ment everywhere where now there is anarchy ; add that central 
regulative system which Spencer says distinguishes all highly 
organized structures, and which supplies " each organ with 
blood in proportion to the work it does " and — behold the Co- 
operative Commonwealth I 

The Cooperative Commonwealth, then, is that future Social 
Order — the natural heir of the present one — in which all im- 
portant instruments of production have been taken under col- 
lective control ; in which the citizens are consciously public 
functionaries, and in which their labors are rewarded accord- 
ing to results. 

A definition is an argument. 

It shows that our critics, when they style Socialism a Utopia, 
do not know about what they are talking. We can imagine a 
caterpillar, more knowing than its fellows, predicting to an- 
other that some day they both will be butterflies, and the oth- 
er sneeringly replying : " What Utopian nonsense you are talk- 
ing there! " Our censors are just as ignorant of the ground- 
work of Socialism. For our definition makes it evident that 
the Cooperative Commonwealth is not to be regarded as a prod- 
uct of personal conceit, but as an historical products as a prod- 



THE COOPERATIYE COMMONWEALTH. 103 

net in which our whole people are unconscious partakers. 
When the times are ripe for Social Cooperation, it will be just 
as expedient, as Feudalism was, or as Private Enterprise was, 
when each, respectively, made its appearance. It will prove its 
right to control by virtue of its own superior fitness. 

Or is there anything Utopian in predicting that Division of 
Labor will go on increasing? Has not wholesale production 
already vindicated its right to be the ruling system, and is it 
Utopian to assert that Private Ownership of Capital, so far 
from being necessary to production in wholesale, will prove a 
greater and greater obstruction to its inevitable development? 
Is it Utopian to expect that all enterprises will become more 
and more centralized, until in the fulness of time they all erld 
in one monopoly, that of Society? Are not, indeed, Anti-vnO' 
nopolists — as far as they believe that they can crush the big 
establishments or even prevent their growth — the real Uto- 
pists ? 

But that is by no means all. We have not yet sufficiently 
emphasized the central fact of Society of to-day. Not alone is 
the necessity which we claim will drive the nations into So- 
cialism steadily growing, hut all civilized Societies are being 
driven into Socialism under our very eyes — if we maj^ apply the 
word " driven " to an inward impulse. Not alone are the con- 
ditions for the establishment of the New Order fast ripening, 
but the New Order is amongst us and asserting itself vigor- 
ously. Not only is the social organism growing from the cir- 
cumference by Society multiplying and subdividing its activ- 
ities and again concentrating them, but the central regulative 
system has silently put in an appearance and is irresistibly or- 
ganizing one social activity after another. This is a fact, of 
transcendent significance'^ and yet our politicians, the gentle- 
men of our '• editorial staffs," our would-be- wise leaders and 
statesmen, all, indeed, except Socialists, seem not to have the 
smallest inkling of it. They all look upon the factory legis- 
lation across the ocean and here and the agitation for nation- 
alization of the land and national control of the telegraphs as 
isolated, recent occurrences, and those who have adopted the 
accepted theories forthwith condemn this legislation and agi- 



104 EXPEDIENCY OF 

tatioii and loudly proclaim that Society — is going astray ! 

But the fact is, that our modern civilization mainly consists 
in this that the State — that is, Society in its organized form — 
has of late been constantly expanding its jurisdiction, and 
has more and more contracted the sphere of individual own- 
ership and control. Why, nearly everything the State now 
manages for us, was once entrusted to private individuals. 

Consider — criminal jurisprudence was once in private hands, 
and was the first in time to be taken in charge by the State. 
There was a time when the customs and national finances were 
farmed out to private persons, but that time is long passed by. 
Then the State turned its attention to postal aftairs, and they 
are now everywhere under national control. The world has 
entirely forgotten that these afi'airs one© were private enter- 
prises, simply because the State has managed them so much 
better than was formally done. The whole struggle between 
State and Church is also here hi point ; the principal conse- 
quence of that struggle has been that nearly all civilized States 
have taken charge of education, which undoubtedly will also 
soon in our country be a matter of national concern. There 
are still other matters, in which the older States of Europe in 
this development are ahead of us : national control of railroads 
and telegraphs. And in proposing that the State shall insure 
workingraen against accidents and against want in their old 
age, Bismark is virtually impelled by the same spirit, rather 
than by any concern for the welfare of the working-classes. 

This fact of '' the centralizition of Power in the National 
Government," as it is called, is the central fact of Society 
everywhere now. You may deny everything else, but you 
cannot deny that. You cannot look at a democratic paper 
without seeing a lament over the fact. The Democrats, though, 
are giving undue credit to the Republicans in charging it to 
their account, for they were but humble instruments in the 
hands of the laws of the Universe ; if the Democrats should 
come into power, they would have to be " centralizers " to the 
same extent. The social organism has once for all got the 
Impetus in that direction, and the movement is gathering 
greater momentum. That is why it is now everywhere in the 



mE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 105 

air. That is wliy this fact is the true rationale of Socialism. 

The cry: "Beware, it is Socialistic !^'' will have absolutely 
no effect. The State will go on expanding its jurisdiction, hur- 
ry on to its destiny, without asking or caring if it is " Social- 
istic." The workingmen and grangers will contimie to im- 
portune the State to come to their relief, without knowing 
anything about Socialism. Henry George has written a book 
that has enticed very many persons very far out on the road 
to Socialism, protesting all the time that he is not a Socialist. 
Frederic Harrison abominates Socialism, and yet preaches 
"Look to the State! From «/ia« you can expect the highest 
experience and skiD, publicity, concentration of power, real 
and efficient control, a national aim and spirit and far more 
true responsibility." 

But it is evident that the process of placing all industries 
and all instruments of labor under collective control will be 
carried on with far more energy and directness, when once 
the true leaders learn that the State is not some power out- 
side of the people, but that it is the social organism itself, and 
that, as an organism, it is destined to grow until it embraces all 
social activities. Hitherto the State has acted from impulse, 
in opposition to accepted theories. But a logical foundation of 
some sort is necessary to all great movements. J^ousseau's 
theory of a"Social Contract," though false, did in that way a 
great service to Humanity. 

The Kew Social Order to which we look forward is thus, 
certainly, the very reverse of Utopian. As a historical prod- 
uct from every point of view we consider it, it will be a natur- 
al product, hence rational. "Whatever is, is rational" 
Hegel said ; that is, it necessarily conforms to the innermost 
nature of things ; and so : whatever is to be is rational. As 
soon as the people learn not to be scared by the word " So- 
cialism ; " as soon as they learn the true nature of the State 
and see whither they are drifting, the Cooperative Common- 
wealth will be the only expedient system. But it certainly 
was not expedient when Plato wrote his Bepuhlic ; it was not 
expedient, but it was a "Utopia" in the times of Thomas 
ISlore ; it was not expedient when St. Simon "invented" his 



106 EXPEDIENCY OF 

system, for Private Enterprise with the steam engine and oth- 
er inventions had first to increase the productive capacity of 
man a thousand times, and thus to prepare the way tor it. 
And vi^hen it becomes expedient, it will be so for the first time 
in human history. 

When the Cooperative Commonwealth becomes an accom- 
plished fact we shall have the full-grown Society ; the normal 
State. That commonwealth — whose citizens will, consciously 
and avowedly be public functionaries — will not know of a 
particle of distinction between the terms " State " and " Soci- 
ety ; " the two ideas will come to cover each other, will be- 
come synonymous. It will be a social order that will endure 
as long as Society itself, for no higher evolution is thinkable, 
except Organized Humanity, and that is but Social-Coopera- 
tion extended to the whole human race. It will effect a com- 
plete regeneration of Society : in its economic, politic and 
juridic relations; in the condition of women and in the edu- 
cation of youth (indeed its chief concern, its true starting 
point;) in morals and, we may add, in religion and philoso- 
phy. The remainder of this treatise will draw in barest out- 
line this normal State in these various relations, in the order 
above named, for the economic features are the foundation of 
every social system, out of which grow all the others, morals 
and religion last of all. It is, as we once observed, at the top : 
in morals and philosophy, that all changes from one Social 
Order to another commence, from whence they insinuate them- 
selves down to the material conditions ; there the change of 
base takes place and the new superstructure is then gradually 
built up. Therefore, also, we defined our system in econo- 
mic terms alone. 

If now Social-Cooperation is that to which we are certain- 
ly drifting, it is undeniably the wiser course, instead of calling 
it names, to inquire if not that which is ''socialistic" may 
also be good, and to try to find out the character of that New 
Begime. We shall therefore here suggest the most notable re- 
spects in which its economic features are likely to promote the 
social welfare. 



THE COOPEEATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 107 

It must be evident to every fair-minded man that this New 
Order — where every worker will be remunerated according to 
results — is in no sense communistic. Socialism and Commun- 
ism are, in fact, two radically different systems ; and yet they 
are constantly confounded, even by well-informed people. 
We wish we could in a serious work like this entirely ignore 
the vulgar conception of Communism : that it proposes " to 
divide all property into equal parts," but when a man like 
Prof. Fawcett of England gives currency to this vulgarism in 
these very words and then proceeds to lecture us, saying: 
'' if the State divided all lands among the inhabitants, there 
would gradually arise the same inequality of wealth which 
exists now," we must notice it sufficiently to say that now-a- 
days no one outside of a lunatic asylum proposes any such 
thing, and that Prof. Fawcett ought to know it. 

The Communism we refer to is that practised by the Shakers 
and similar bodies, bound together by some form of religious 
belief or unbelief. Their peculiar meth od of giving practical 
effect to their doctrines is different from ours; we believe that 
to retire from the world, as they do, is a poor way of reform- 
ing the world, we beheve it is with reformers as with yeast : 
it must be mixed with the dough to act upon it ; if kept to itself, 
it spoils. But their principles — in which they agree with po- 
litical communists — are diametrically opposed to ours. Com- 
munists make nil property common property, while our Com- 
monwealth will place only the instruments of production — land, 
machinery, raw-materials &c. — under collective control. They 
require every one to do his share of labor, and allow him to 
consume as he needs. Our Commonwealth leaves everybody 
at perfect liberty to work as much or as little as he pleases, 
or not at all, but makes his consumption exactly commensur- 
ate with his performances. Adam Smith observed that "the pro- 
duce of labor is the natural recompense of Labor " and St. Paul 
laid it down : '• whoever does not work, neither shall he eat " 
and the 'New System — as our definition points out — will put 
these doctrines into practice. 

In short, the motto of Socialism is : •' Everybody accord- 
ing to his deeds'^ " that of Communism is : "Everybody ac- 



108 EXPEDIENCY OF 

cording to his needs.'''' The communist motto is nncloiibtecUy 
a very generous one, more generous than ours ; but our motto 
is more just, takhig human nature as it is, — and the fact that So- 
cialists take liuman nature as it is, is just their merit. In- 
deed, if we define Capitalism as the fleecing of the weak by 
the strong. Communism might be said to be a fleecing of the 
strong by the weak, an observation already made by Proud- 
hon ; though the '^ strong " under our system simply means 
those buoyed up to the top, while under the latter system 
they would mean the truly, physically or intellectually, strong . 

Communism must therefore plead guilty to the charges : 
first, that it means to aboMsh the institution of property and, 
next, that it must result in crusliing out all individuality. 
Socialism not only will do neither of these things but the 
very reverse. Instead of taking property away from everybody, 
it will enable everyhodij to acquire property. It will truly sanc- 
tify the institution of individual ownership by placing prop- 
erty on an unimpeachable basis : that of being the result of 
one''s individual exertions. Thereby it will afford the very 
mightiest stimulus for individuality to unfold itself. Proper- 
ty will belong to its possessor by the strongest of all titles, 
to be enjoyed as he thinks proper, hut not to he used as an in- 
strument of fleecing his fellow-citizens. 

Next let us pass in review one of the chief industries after 
another and note the most obvious advantages that will flow 
from Social Cooperation. But especially here will our motto 
apply: that ^' our purpose is not to make people read but to 
make them think." For the experience of our readers will 
naturally supply them with innumerable other cases in point. 

Take, first, manifactures. 

Suppose there are at present in a given city a hundred black- 
smiths, who together employ four hundred men. The hundred 
bosses spend necessarily a great deal of their time in seeking 
jobs. In this pursuit they are constantly thwarting each oth- 
er's purposes, and trying to beat each other. When in their 
shops, they have directions to give, estimates to prepare, let- 
ters to write and bills to make out. They all perform a labor- 



THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 109 

ious and necessary work, and yet the productive result of their 
work is very insignificant. 

Again, these hundred employers have a hundred different 
shops, a hundred different fire-places, which take up very 
much space and use up very much fuel. The money spent 
in renting these shops, in constructing these fireplaces 
and bellows and for the fuel which is thus wasted, would 
be sufficient to build a most magnificent cooperative factory 
in which these bosses and wage-workers might, as co- 
operative workers, find steady and remunerative employment. 

Again, in these hundred shops there are a number of tools 
and macbines that might be reduced immensely, if these five 
hundred blacksmiths worked in common; while, on the oth- 
er hand, a good many machines and implements could be in- 
troduced into such a co-operative factory which at present 
even the richest of those employers is not able, or at least not 
willing to procure, because even his business is not large 
enough to warrant the outlay. 

Add to this that very seldom a man is a good artisan and a 
good man of business, and it will be evident from this exam- 
ple, that if all manufacturing enterprises were concentrated 
to the same extent that we might imagine this smithing busi- 
ness concentrated, the dispensing with much useless, and there- 
fore unproductive work, the reduction in operative expenses 
and especially the most fruitful division of Labor which could 
be inaugurated would immensely enrich Society. Every large 
factory which arises on the ruin of the shops of the small ar- 
tisans we consider an advance in civilization, simply because 
the more production is being organized on a large scale, the 
easier it will be for the associated workers, by the authority 
of the Cooperative Commonwealth, to take charge of it, and 
secure to themselves the utmost benefit of inventions, ma- 
chinery and division of employments. 

Further: At present our hundred bosses are frequently 
in financial embarrassment ; but few of them accumulate a 
competence for their old age many succumb to competition 
and crises, while their workmen are nothing but wage-slaves, 
having violent periods of overwork, followed by long and ter- 



1 10 EXPEDIENCY OF 

ribie stagnation. The working in concert under the Cooper- 
ative Commonwealth will reduce all risk, all crises, all pro- 
duction beyond the eflfective demand, to a minimum. 

Peter and Paul run risks, because the cannibals John and 
James stand ready to eat them up at a given opportunity. But 
the whole production of a country in any given branch need 
run hardly any risk at all. Do away with the secresy which 
now obtains in our manufacturing establishments, shut up 
those gambling shops : the stock and produce-exchanges ; let 
scientific statistics be taken of the demand and supply in all 
parts of the country, and elsewhere if practicable ; in other 
w^ords : introduce systematic work instead of planless work, and 
crises and "overproduction" will be next to impossible. What- 
ever losses may occur from inaccuracies in statistics or una- 
voidable mishaps will be almost inappreciable, being borne 
by the whole country. Thus, our Commonwealth will be 
what a Commonwealth ought to be: the General Insurance 
Company; but of that more hereafter. 

The advantages of the Commonwealth being the sole Mer- 
chant are evident : they will be all that our grangers and vol- 
untary cooperationists are in the habit of expecting from their 
schemes and not include one of the disadvantages, which, in 
a previous chapter, we saw necessarily resulting from these. 
Under our Commonwealth the small shopkeepers, pedlers, 
commission-merchants and all of that sort will disappear, 
N^o more need for bribing newspapers for pufis; no longer 
any temptation to use lying labels or sell adulterated goods. 
A bale of cotton will not as now have to be sold ten times 
over to get from the producer into the hands of the consumer; 
nor will the people of Philadelphia be bled to the extent of 
$6.50 for a ton of coal which only costs, all expenses and out- 
lays included, $1.50 at the mouth of the mine. Nevermore 
shall we find twenty drugstores in a little town that only needs 
one. 

No, indeed ! In place of that we shall have great perma- 
nent bazaars, embracing all possible articles of consumption, 
of which stores like that of Jordan Marsh & Co., in Bos- 
ton, or still better the one, once mentioned, in Philadelphia are 



THE COOPERATIVE COx\[MONWEALTH. Ill 

only insignificant miniature models — but tlianks to their chiefs 
for furnishing us those models ! 

The salesmen and saleswomen in those bazaars will be quite 
different beings from those of the present day, who are 
very often slaves from morning till late at night. They will, 
like all other citizens, be independent human beings, with 
plenty of leisure at their command. 

The greatest gain to Society, however, in taking control of 
commerce, will perhaps be found in the suppression of that 
talent, so peculiar to our Plutocrats and seemingly acquired 
by them with their mother*s milk: the faculty of speculation; 
a talent which contributes nothing to production, but wliose 
only end and aim is the transfer of wealth from one pocket 
into another. Nearly all workers are devoid of that talent. 
The New Regime will, like the Man of the New Testament, 
lash the howling lunatics, the brokers and cornerers, out of 
our stock-and other exchanges, which will be devoted to no- 
bler uses ; for Cooperation and Speculation are strangers. 

'•'' Trade " — as far as it means tlie buying and selling of goods 
for the sake of profit — will at home be changed into distribu- 
tion of the produce of labor among the workers, and as to for- 
eign countries into genuine commerce i. e. the exchange of 
such home-products we do not need for such foreign products 
we may need. 

These changes in manufactures and Commerce will naturally 
affect Transportation in a remarkable degree. While now our 
mails, railroads, ships and wagons do business for innumer- 
able private concerns, in the New Commonwealth they will do 
business for one, only. What a colossal concentration and sim- 
plification of Transportation does that, in itself, imply ! Bear 
in mind simply the mass of drays and wagons of every sort, 
which now in every one of our populous cities choke up our 
streets and distract most people's nerves ! Think of the amount 
of human and animal labor now absolutely wasted in this 
way! It might, indeed, be difficult for those now living to 
recognize the aspect of our cities, to be brought about by this 
simplification, alone, under the new order of things. Even 
New York may thereby become a cle^n oU-ir 



112 EXPEDIENCY OF 

Transportation itself, of course, will betaken under collect- 
ive control, and thus the radical wrong undone of granting 
public concessions to individuals for the express purpose of 
making our highways subservient to private interests. For 
what are now our railway corporations but a clique of persons 
empowered by law to use these highways, in the fii^st place, for 
their own benefit^ and only incidentally for the public conven- 
ience? 

It is just as easy to demonstrate the vast superiority of so- 
cial-cooperative farming over the present style. 

The prevailing isolated mode of Agriculture wastes an im- 
mense amount of human and animal labor, of time and of ma- 
terials. What an economy would there not be in having one 
large stable, one large yard, one large barn, in the place of 
one hundred stables, yards and barns? Any one can esti- 
mate for himself what an enormous sum of money could 
be saved in one single item, when he learns that the fences 
of Indiana alone, if extended in a single line, would go 
around the globe nearly 14 times, and cost no less than ^200,- 
000.000. How many wagons and horses will not be rendered 
superfluous, wheii the Cooperative Commonwealth takes 
charge of Agriculture? Ilow many persons will not be made 
available for manufacturing and other produciive pursuits? 
And as to time, these words of Professor Fawcett are sugges- 
tive : "It has been calculated, that a steam-cultivator would 
plough a square field of ten acres in half the time, occupied 
in j)loughing two fields of five acres each, and with two-thirds 
the expense." 

But wh}" waste any words in abstract demonstration? Do 
not our '• bonanza farms " teach us practically the lesson ? And 
will not the hundreds of *' bonanza farms " of the near future, 
eventually knock the lesson even into the heads of our coun- 
try-cousins? Do they not already practically demonstrate, 
that there are a hundred things requisite for thorough farm- 
ing, that only can be had by cultivation on a grand scale? 
Do not the " creameries '' that everywhere are springing up 
show that butter and cheese can be made much better and 
more cheaply in one dairy than on a hundred farms? 



xiii^ COOPERATIVE COItOIONWEALTH. 113 

Oar farmers cannot help finding out by and by, that social- 
cooperative farming Avill prove to them an immense benefit, 
simply in 2i financial point of view. 

It is certainly easy to comprehend that association, in Mill's 
words, "is the most powerful agent of production" — few 
words ought to sufiSce to prove that. It ought, iudeed, to be 
easy to see, that Social Cooperation will increase the total pro- 
duction of our country at least as much beyond the capability 
of the present system as the latter surpasses that of the Mid- 
dle Ages in iDroportion to population. This it will do by add- 
ing, simply, Concert ; by inoculating into the Social Organism 
that central regulative system which Spencer finds in all oth- 
er high organisms, but of which he apparently sees no need 
in the Social Organism, the highest of all. For this Concert, 
this Regulative System, will reduce immensly all operative 
expenses, in Manufactures, in Exchange, in Transportation, 
in Agriculture; it will prevent waste ; it will do away with 
nearly all risk ; and, lastly, it will permit, the most advantage- 
ous Division of Labor. 

He is said to be one of the greatest beneffictors of mankind 
who makes two blades of grass grow where one grew before. 
What then is to be said of the men who are determined to de- 
velop society, as quickly as possible, up to the adoption of a 
system of production, demanded by the c onditions of the age, 
and which will increase, to an unprecedented degree, the net 
results of all our industries, and evidently lead to innumera- 
ble technical improvements in all their branches ? 

This fructification of Labor, will on the first view readily 
make Social Cooperation appear highly desirable. l>ut the 
objection, that this increase of the means of subsistence and 
enjoyment really means a far greater " overproduction"' than 
has yet confronted us, lies very near. It is precisely the prin- 
cipal excellence of the Cooperative Commonwealth that it will 
create an effective demand for even the greatest imaginable 
production. 

We said in the preceding chapter that the full-grown State 
will help ever J'- one of its citizens to help himself. That, fii'st 



114 . EXPEDIENCY OF 

of all, means that it will furnish employment, productive em- 
ployment, and such employment as they, respectively, may 
be best fitted for to all citizens ; thus enabling them to pay 
for anything they may want or wish for — which is what is 
meant by '" effective " demand. 

After what we already have remarked in regard to " natural 
rights," it cannot be supposed that we lay ^ny stress on the 
socalled natural •' right to Labor." And yet more can be said 
in favor of that claim than for any other " natural right." Of 
course " right to labor" is a very inapt phrase; nobody real- 
ly complains of not being sufficiently burdened with toil. But 
all know well enough that it is meant to assert a claim to a 
decent livelihood, to be gained by profitable Labor. ISTow, if 
it be once admitted, what even Herbert Spencer aflEirms, that 
land is the common heritage of all, then there is very great 
force in the argument of such philosophers as Fichte and Con- 
siderant that " those who are not proprietors of land must, as 
a compensation for the common property ivhich they have lost^ be 
guaranteeed the right to labor." And communities have, as 
a matter of fact, recognized the force of that claim. The 
Poor-law of England is a recognition of it. And, though it 
seems unknown to even professional lawyers, a Pennsylvania 
Statute provides as follows : '•' If such poor person be able to 
work, but cannot find employment, it shall be the duty of the 
overseers to provide work for him according to his ability^ and 
for this purpose tliey shall procure suitable places and a suit- 
able stock of materials." 

But it should be distinctly understood that we do not think 
the Coming Commonwealth will base its action on this ground, 
but on quite another. 

Malthus says bluntly, in his ''Essay on Population," that the 
man born into the world whose family cannot support him and 
whose labor is not in demand must take himself away. " For 
him there is no cover laid at nature's table." 

Now we affirm that in our Commonwealth there will he a de- 
mand for the labor oi every citizen. This is a proposition that 
every one on a little reflection will assent to. 

Mark ! we speak of productive labor, and mean thereby labor 



THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 115 

that creates anything which men desire. This desire is abso- 
lutely unlimited. The desire for cert;dn staple articles of food 
or for this or that manufactured article or for a given means 
of enjoyment may be limited, but the desire for the products 
of human labor and skill in general^ physical, artistic or intel- 
lectual— wevi^r. 

The desire for — that is, the power of — consumption in the body 
of the citizens is thus boundless. And they will have the means 
to pay for all there is to consume. Under the ISTew Order all 
will be productive woi'kers ; they will be paid an equivalent for 
what they produce — not merely one half of it as now under 
the wage-system — in some form. Consequenth^ their pur- 
chasing power will in all cases balance the total production. 

There, is a demand for the labor of every man under any* 
well-ordered Social system. If there is a waste of men now", 
it is the fault of the Wage-System. A slave was actually 
worth what he would fetch, and there were very few slaves 
who would fetch nothing. Why, in a free Commonwealth, 
should men be of less account? Cattle are valuable . why not 
men? Carlyle remarks : "a w^hite European man, standing 
on his two legs, with his two five-fingered hands at his shack- 
le bones and miraculous head on his shoulders, is worth, I 
should say, from 50 to IQO horses." 

By giving all the idle employment ; by putting all our para- 
sites and superfluous workers where they can work jDroduct- 
ively, the Commonwealth will create the needed elfective de- 
mand, and more than that : The stock of the good things of 
this life vnll therehy he very much enlarged.-perhsLps doubled. 

But do not believe, that when we say that the State will 
furnish all profitable employment, that we mean that every 
one will have to do manual labor. Labor undoubtedly will 
then come to honor; work will then be a beneficent law, and 
not an oppressive rule as now, but brain-work will have Its 
due weight : the New Commonwealth will not be a state of 
mechanics. In all States that at present pretend to give its 
citizens educational facilities, it seems to be entirely overlooked 
that education and aspiration go hand in hand. Our coun- 
try, in particidar. which gives such of our young men and 



116 EXPEDIENCY OF 

women who can afford to improve themselves free access to 
high-schools, colleges and universities, afterwards leaves them 
to scramble for a precarious existence, for which their very- 
education has unfitted them ; yet an educated pauper is the 
most pitiable subject of all. Our Commonwealth, on the oth- 
er hand, will nourish the aspirations it has awakened ; it will 
use for its own good the talents it has matured and enable ev- 
ery man and woman to develop his or her peculiar aptitudes, 
whether it be in brain-work or hand-work. This fact, that 
every citizen will be able to follow his or her peculiar bent, 
will also itself vastly increase the productive result of all so- 
cial activities, for it is well-known that a person accomplishes 
most when he works in the line of his greatest inclination. 

We may note here that the enlargement of the purchasing 
power of the masses will also contribute considerably to in- 
crease the wealth of Society by materially changing the c/mr~ 
acter of the demand from what it is at present. That is to say : 
articles of use and beauty will more and more crowd out the 
costly goods, which at present are principally in demand be- 
cause, and only because, they are costly and by that quality 
enable our money-aristocracy to display their wealth. 

It has been computed that if everybody now worked at 
some useful calling, everybody could live in comfort on four 
hours' daily labor. There is some good reason for believing 
that this computation is not so very far from being correct. 
But who can doubt that in the Coming Commonwealth, with 
all objects of desire thus increased, the hours of Labor could 
be very much reduced, and yet everybody, willing to work 
have everything that heart could wish? 

Why should anybody then object to being restrained from 
working more than six or four hours a day? That very many 
workingmen should object to such a check on their liberty noio^ 
when they often are reduced to absolute want by seasons of 
enforced idleness, is natural enough and may be noted as the 
immovable stumbling-block in the way of those who agitate 
for a compulsory eight-hour law under the present system. 

In our Commonwealth all men and women can be endowed 
with that supreme good — Leisure^ the mother of Culture. Ob- 



THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 117 

serve, there is the greatest clifterence in the world between 
Leisure and Idleness. The idler, whether poor or rich, has no 
leisure, for it means the delightfnl hours reserved from some 
regular employment, of not too long duration, and which se- 
cures the satisfaction of all material wants. 

Under the New Regime ''Charity" and '' charitable institu- 
tions " will be things of the past. By-the-way, is it not a 
pity that the noble word : •' Charity " has in this hypocritical 
era come to mean — alms-giving? In our Commonwealth no 
alms will be given ; indeed, nothing will he had gratis. Every- 
body will get the full produce of his labor in direct revenues 
or hi public benefit. Every citizen will be entitled to the use 
of all public institutions ; be it of libraries, of schools for his 
children, of hospitals, asylums, or assistance in his old age, 
on the same xorinciple as the insured is entitled to the amount 
named in his policy, on the happening of a certain event. 
This makes it clear how our Commonwealth is to be the Gen- 
eral Insurer; and our various companies that insure against 
so many forms of risk point out the right road to pursue. They, 
indeed, embody whatever of cor^Dorate resx)onsibility there is 
left in this chaotic age. 

We should therefore say that the Cooperative Commonwealth 
will be highly promotive of social welfare by securing to all 
its citizens abundance; by turnishing them leisure; and by 
enabling them to follow their natural bent. Work will no 
longer be a tribute to physical nccessii y but a glad performance 
of social office. It will for the iirst time in human history es- 
tablish harmony between personal Egoism and the Public 
Welfare, by, simply, distributing the forces of the social or- 
ganism in accordance with its real Jieeds. 

We make a distinction between the soil of cities and towns 
and agricultural lands. The former will have to be taken un- 
der collective control simultaneously with other Capital, while 
the nationalization of the latter, in a country like ours espec- 
ially, may be postponed for years. That this change will prove 
highly beneficial to our city population is not difficult to see. 

The greater a city is, the worse are the •' homes "' — as they 



118 EXPEDIENCr OF 

are Still by courtesy called — of the masses that inhabit it, main- 
ly because the ruling class, the moneyed aristocracy, becomes 
the more exclusive. There was a time when this aristocracy 
formed one class with the masses : called in England the •" Com- 
mons," in France the "'Third Estate." For a long time after 
the settlement of om- country we had only this one class. As 
long as this state of things continued, the chiefs of industry 
and commerce lived over their shops, near their offices among 
their people. Now they have deserted their posts of social 
duty. They live in separate districts, in the suburbs and only 
come into town to spend a few hours in their places of busi- 
ness on week-days. This modern fashionable suburbanism 
and exclusiveness is a real grievance of the working-classes. 
Had the rich men continued to live among tlie masses, they 
would with their wealth and inlluence have made our large 
towns pleasant places to live in. especially as they are almost 
the exclusive owners of the ground and buildings. 

It is evident that when the Community assumes the owner- 
shif>, all kinds of improvements can and will be carried on in 
a far grander and more systematic manner than now when 
many a measure, imperatively demanded even by the Public 
Good, is met and often checked by some opposing private in- 
terest. Then the manj^ unsiglitiy vacant lots in the very heart 
of cities will disappear. Then, and only then, we can hope 
for the introduction of such sanitary measures, both indwell- 
ings and factories, as the present development of Public Hy- 
giene recommends and as the aggregation of workers imper- 
atively demands. Compare now the public institutions in any 
city: schools, asylums or even jails with the factories found 
in the same place and note the difference in the workings of 
corporate responsibility, on the one hand, and private greed 
and indifference, on the other. Every community owning the 
soil on which it lives, can be made responsible for the death 
of nearly every person who may fiiU a victim to the Yellow 
Fever or any other epidemic. For all the conditions of epi- 
demic diseases, like foul air, stagnant pools, alleys filled with 
garbage, can be brouglit wholly within the control of an en- 



THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 119 

ei'getic. administratiou, as General Butler conclusively proved 
in New Orleans. 

But this subject leads up to another problem. The present 
relation of city to country is an abnormal one. Every civilized 
country, with its overgrown cities may fairly be compared to 
a man whose belly is steadily increasing in bulk, out of all 
proportion to the body, and whose legs are constantly growing 
thinner. This evolution is as yet perfectly legitimate. Our 
large cities and towns are the necessary fruits of our indus- 
trial system, and are destined to become the needed and m- 
evitable centres for the coming changes ; in their hands will 
chiefly lie the threads of destiny. But then their purpose will 
have been fulfilled. Then the evolution will necessarily have 
to go back in the contrary direction ; population will have to 
take its march back into the country. It will become a 
life-problem. 

Why do the sons of farmers now flock into our cities ? Because 
their fathers and especially mothers lead a life of drudgery and 
privation that no mechanic in the city would wish to undergo; 
because they want to get rid of the pros^y, stunting, isolated, 
barbarian life on a farm. The working masses stay in our 
overcrowded cities because such a farm-life has no attractions 
for them. They are not going to leave the cities before they 
can carry with them the civilization in wiiidi they have been 
reared ; and well it is that they cannot be made to do it. Only 
our Commonwealth and collective control of all land can bring 
the pleasures and comforts of city life, the blessings of our 
civilization, into the country. This consideration, beside the 
financial one we already have suggested, may in time make 
our farmers see the beauties of Socialism. 

But the nationalization of the land and Social-cooperative 
farming will not prove beneficial merelj'- to the agricultural 
class and our surplus city-population, but also preeminently 
to Society at large. It may, indeed, in a short time, be im- 
perative on Society to adopt it. 

Our present mode of farming impoverishes the soil; " bon- 
anza " — farming does so to a still greater extent. Every bush- 
el of wheat sent to our lai-ge cities or abroad, robs the soil of 



120 EXPEDIENCY OF 

a certain amount of nutriment. And next to nothing, — in fact, 
on the bonanza-farms nothing at all, — is done to reimburse 
the soil for that loss. The object of the bonanza-farmers is 
simply to plunder the soil as much as possible in order to fill 
their own pockets. When it becomes no longer profitable to 
work the lands with e/ven the most extensive machinery, they 
will be left mere deserts. 

Manure is just as requisite for the soil as food is for a hu- 
man being. Our large cities, constantly growing, are the es- 
pecial consumers of the substance of the soil, without return- 
ing to it their refuse : this manure which is so all important to 
it. Evidently the result must be that our agricultural iDroduc- 
tion will be paralyzed, if an end be not put to this system of 
plunder. 

Nothing but Social Cooperation will put an end to it. Only 
that can institute a wise system of gathering and of distributing 
this invaluable refuse of men and animals. This is evidently 
a matter in which Society at large is vitally interested. And 
there are other measures, that only yield in importance to this 
matter of manure, which only Social Cooperation will know 
how to deal with properly ; as a comprehensive system of 
drainage, without which land cannot be cultivated to its high- 
est degree; and the preservation and culture of our forests, 
which even in our days call loudly for the interposition of 
national authority. 

However, volumes would be requisite to give an adequate 
conception of all the benefits to be conferred by the Coope- 
rative Commonwealth in detail, for as has been truly observed 
by the reputable German Political Econo mist, Prof. Schaefifle : 
'* it requires years to think one -self into it.'''' 

But all this will not satisfy people who pride themselves on 
being practical. ^'Practical people are people whose knowl- 
edge is limited to what is going on under their eyes '' — this is 
Buckle's definition, not ours. These nearsighted gentlemen will 
say: '••Your Commonwealth maybe ever so much in harmony 
with the conditions of this age ; it may be able to create ever 
so great an abundance and even to furnish tlie most efiective 



THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 121 

demand for it ; it may be able to establish the most perfect 
social adjustment; yet it is impracticable'^ it cannot be made 
to work for many reasons." 

Xow, we are not here concerned about how to institute that 
New Order, — when the time is ready, when we reach that brink, 
a bridge will grov/ before our way, somehow — but it may be 
worth our while to notice some of these reasons. 

•■'It is a stupendous scheme ! That is enough to make it im- 
practicable. It is an insane idea to propose to make fifty or 
a hundred million people work in concert." 

Yes, the Philistines of the Middle Ages, likewise, undoubted- 
ly whuld have scorned, as insane, the idea, that a city like 
London could possibly be provided with the necessaries of 
life under any system of free competition. And now, when it 
is daily done, our modern Philistines consider the fact as an 
evidence ol "the beautiful harmony between private interests 
and public necessities." Yet it is a far greater wonder, that 
we get along under the present system as well as we do. than 
that our Commonwealth should work without the least fric- 
tion. We have, indeed, every reason to expect, that it will be 
a Social Order, as regular and unobtrusive as if it were a Law 
of iSTature. 

"But how are you going to nationalize the land? How would 
you go to w^orkto bring these innumerable private enterprises 
under collective control? Even Herbert Spencer,who, like you, 
condemns private ownership in land — in that very Social Sta- 
tics that you criticized — sees no means of overcoming the diffi- 
culties in the way of making land collective property." 

It would be easy enough. Suppose our national constitu- 
tion were tomorrow amended to this effect : 

" All titles in fee in private persons to any Real Estate are 
hereby abolished ; all such titles shall henceforth vest in the 
United States, exclusively." 

What then? Not anything like the overturning of existing 
relations which followed the abolition of slavery would be 
caused by such an amendment. Not a single person would need 
to be ousted from the premises he uses, still less from the dwell- 
ing he inhabits. The tenants of private parties would simply 



122 EXPEDIENCY OF 

be turned into tenants of the Nation ; the payments of the 
present proprietors to the community would be changed from 
'•Taxes" into '"Rents." 

Undoubtedly in other respects the change would be tremen- 
dous. The occupants of lands and buildings could no longer 
sell them, no longer mortgage them, no longer rent them. 
Land as Capital and as source of Capital would evaporate into 
thin air like mist before the morning sun, but would remain 
as Social AVealth. It would lose its speculative, unreal value, 
but would retain its intrinsic, real value. Then an '' enterpris- 
ing" individual could no longer one day acquire a piece of land 
for twenty five cents an acre, and, without spending a day's 
work or one dollar for improvements on it, ten years thence 
dispose of it for ten or a hundred dollars an acre ; this way of 
fleecing the community would be stopped. In short. Land 
held for speculative purposes would be dropped like a hot po- 
tato, to be sure, but occupants in good faith could use it pre- 
cisely as they do now. The difficulties of such a measure 
would be reduced to absolutely nothing, if the amendment 
proposed, instead of taking effect at once, were made opera- 
tive, say, twenty five years from the date of its adoption ; for 
then values and relations would have ample time to settle them- 
selves. 

This is Henry George's " Remedy." Now, from the very 
moment when we read the title-page of George's book we did 
not think well of his being ready with a remedij at all. This 
fact shows that he considers Society sick and thinks it must 
have some medicine. Afterwards he seems to recoil from the 
drastic operation of his medicine, the confiscation of land — 
it might shock the preconceived notions of people — and pro- 
poses, instead of that heroic treatment, the confiscation of rent. 

We admit that either of these two remedies would have two 
results, highly beneficial in themselves : the revenues of the 
community from land would be largely increased, and the vast 
sums, now squandered as purchase-money and rents for pure- 
ly fictitious values, would be saved. 

But after having shown our men-in-spectacles that it would 
be easy enough to nationalize the land, we must emphasize 



THE COOPEEATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 123 

that to do so would be, especially in our country and in Ger- 
many and France, commencing from the wrong end. Society is 
not sick ; bat Society may be said to be suffering the pangs of 
child-birth. Now, to assist her deliverance by touching agri- 
cultural lands with the Socialist wand would be as inexpedi- 
ent as to help a woman in travail by forcing the feet of the 
infant out first, and inexpedient ei;er^M7/iere— even in Great Brit- 
tain where only a comparatively few owners would have to be 
expropriated — for the simple reason that the evolution in agri- 
culture is everywhere far behind the evolution in all other 
industries. This objection, of course, would not apply to land 
used for manufacturing and mining purposes or to that of 
towns and cities, as we already have remarlvcd. But the na- 
tionalization of such land should not be considered as a meas- 
ure by itself, but as an adjunct to the taking our Manufac- 
tures, Distribution of products and Transportation under col- 
lective control. 

What practical difficulties would there be in the way of do- 
ing that? 

Why ! If our "■ statesmen " were less blind to the Logic of 
Events, which is pushing us with railroad-speed toward a to- 
tal and abrupt revolution, tliey might from to-morrow bring it 
about gradually and peaceably by a series of measures, each 
consistent! j'^ developing itself out of the previous ones. They 
might begin from the two poles of Society at once. 

See how ! It is now proposed to take tlie Telegraph-system 
of our country under government control and incorporate it 
in our Postoffice-department. The latter is already essential- 
ly a Socialist institution, though to make it such fully, will 
require some important changes that we shall refer to in the 
following chapter. Suppose this measure realized as it is sure 
to be sometime. Then do likewise with our Eailroads, our 
Express-business and thus onward : absorb one great enter- 
prise after another, as quickly as practicable. 

And so from the other pole. We now speak of those inter- 
ests which so vitally affect the inhabitants of diff*erent com- 
munities, but which are confined to them. Why could not 
our cities commence by furnishing to their citizens fuel in 



124 EXPEDIENCY OF 

winter and ice in summer? Are not these things just as essen- 
tial to the Public Health as water? After that let them furnish 
all the milk needed. Then let them take under their control 
and operate their gas-works and horse-railways ; their baker- 
ies and drugstores. Yes, and let them take charge of the liquor- 
traffic, so that the number of saloons may be restricted to the 
wants of their respective populations and be conducted as the 
beer-selling cooperative stores of England — not the least ben- 
eficial of her many cooperative establishments — are conducted. 

Now please observe, we do not say, — or even think — that the 
social question will be solved in that manner, but that it seems 
to us the most practical way in which to solve it for ^' practi- 
cal" people. And mark further ! that to carry out one or a 
few of these measures (as the nationalization of Land, or col- 
lective control of the Telegraph system, or communal 
control of the coal-business) and tJien stop there^ will not 
solve the question at all. These measures, standing alone^ will 
be almost worthless to the working-classes. They will ben- 
efit the small number employed in these enterprises ; they 
may benefit all by the resulting public improvements, but they 
will not help the great bodj^ of the workers in any material 
respect, for to the same extent, that the price of their neces- 
saries of life and rents may fall, their wages are sure to come 
down. That is the final answer to George's proposition. Even 
if he could possibly persuade the Social organism by his in- 
sinuating periods to swallow his medicine, she would not be 
a bit less restless than before. That child, the New Social Or- 
der, is going to be born. 

•' But whence will your Commonwealth take the money to 
indemnify the present owners?" 

Oh ! that matter of compensation will not worry us so very 
much. Socialists, indeed, claim, that it is Society, to whom 
our Plutocrats owe all their wealth, and that, therefore. So- 
ciety has the right at any moment to take it back. Besides — 
a fact to which we already have once called attention — Society 
has never yet compensated the laboring classes when their in- 
terests have been sacrificed to the gain of their fellow-citizens 
and posterity, as they have repeatedly been during this cen- 



THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 125 

tiiry by the introduction ot new machinery and the adoption 
of new inventions. But they are, also, ready to admit, tliat, 
if our Plutocrats are willing peaceably to give up their posses- 
sions to the Commonwealth^ they ought to be fairly compen- 
sated, on the sole ground that these possessions were acquired 
by the sanction of Society. But what of that? 

All the wealth of the country in the year 1880 is estimated 
at $40,000,000,000. Muchof that is com posed of speculative, un- 
real, values. All that Socialists wish to expropriate, is only 
the most important instruments of production, a fractional 
part of that wealth. If, now, this nation could spend six 
thousand million of dollars to deliver a foreign race out of 
slavery, could it not spend, say, twenty thousand millions of 
dollars to make all its citizens free ? Compare such a debt with 
the incumbrances of so many modern wars, waged in the in- 
terests of a few persons or of a small class, and remember, 
that in this case the consideration will be bequeathed with the 
debt ; for the land and machinery will remain intact, or rather 
will multiply itself in course of a few generations. On this 
point we shall have more to say in the next chapter. 

But should our Plutocracy choose to make the Revolution 
a violent one, then — we suppose they will be dispossessed with- 
out compensation. Read history, and you will find, that the 
dominant class has furnished us with plenty ot precedents. 

The various privileges of the nobles and clergy were ''prop- 
erty;" they are so no longer. Germany, Italy, Spain, and 
France have repeatedly confiscated the estates of nobility and 
clergy. England has done the same thing with the soil of 
Ireland. It is worth while for capitalists to bear in mind Carl- 
yle's words : '' Who can be hood-winked into believing that 
loijalty to the money-bag is nobler than loyalty to nobles and 
clergy? " But we need not go away from home : our country 
confiscated the slaves of the South; that is a splendid precedent 
for us. 

'' But it is certainly granted, that Government never can do 
business as well as private individuals, simply because the 
latter are personally interested in their aflfau's." 

This is decidedly woi granted. It is only a commonplace, 



126 EXPEDIENCY OF 

manufactured to order by interested parties ; a stigma, ingen- 
iously fastened on State-activitj^ by individunls who protit by 
the absence of it. The fact, that our government carries a 
letter for us promptly and safely across the continent for two 
cents ; the fact that the English telegraph service sends a des- 
patch to any part of the United Kingdom for twenty live cents ; 
the fact, that the Belgian railway management only charges 
thirty-six cents for every thirty miles, these prove, that the 
State, even as now constituted^ can and does manage national 
interests better than any private parties could do it. Or, to 
clinch our argument : suppose a proposition was submitted to 
the people to relegate our mail-service back to private corpor- 
ations, can any sane man doubt, that it would be overwhelm- 
ingly defeated, even if all Star-route frauds were brought to 
light? 

There is one particular State-activity that has proved the 
eminent fitness of the State to direct the work of Society — 
and that is its scientific labors. Look at the exceptional ef- 
ficiency ot our Coast-Survey, Light-House-Service, the labors 
of the Kaval Observatory, Signal Service, Patent Office, Ge- 
ological Surveys. 

And, in point of fact, is the management of any of our big 
corporations better entitled to be called management by the 
'' persons interested," than the administration of a public of- 
fice^ The State can evidently be far more efficient than the 
most efficient private company to-day, simply because it 
will have in its service the best capacities that the country 
contains, and can organize the greatest possible Division of 
Labor. 

"But what an unbearable omnipotent centralization! Un- 
bearable to a degree unheard of before in history. Your Com- 
monwealth will have the supreme power without appeal, to 
domineer over all the social and industrial interests of the 
country at its pleasure, even to the extent of saying how many 
hours a man shall work or how much money he may earn, 
That is a tyranny, a slavery, that certainly will never be sub- 
mitted to by the strong individuality of our people. And what 
an enormous crowd of officials? If corruption is now every- 



THE COOPEEATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 127 

where cropping out in our Civil Service how will it be when 
that service is increased a thousandfold?" 

One thing at a time, friend, though it is very well to have 
these objections noticed. Civil Service increased, you say. 
Then you are truly nearsighted. What else are now our mer- 
chants, our foremen, out superintendents, our bank-presidents, 
cashiers — yes,, and all oiir workers but persons who serve ms, 
or pretend to serve us ; what else but functionaries of Society^ 
though they are so in a private capacity ? Is there not an im- 
mense number of men now, occupying private positions in- 
tent only on their interests or the interests of their employers 
and yet to all intents and purposes officials of Society? The only 
change, then which our Common v/ealth will bring about in 
that respect, is to change these private functionaries into public 
officials^ but far from increasing the " Civil Service," this 
change will, actually, vastly decrease the number of those 
who now spend their time as mere overseers, managers or 
middlemen. 

And why should a change from private into public function- 
aries tend to make these officials corrupt? Public Service al- 
ways lends dignity to the servant, and if our Civil Service is 
corrupt, it is evidently due to the uncertain tenure and the 
fact that political adventurers have the inside track. If /. i. 
the Gas Trust of Philadelphia is poorly managed, it is only 
because it is used for political purj)Oses. But politicians 
will not have much to say under the New Order, as we shall 
see later on. 

And centralization I Well, what of it? There are people 
who pronounce that word with unaffected horror, as if it sig- 
nified something exceedingly execrable. And yet every healthy 
man is an instance of the most perfect centralization in his 
own person. Indeed, the moment that perfect centralization 
ceases, suffering is the result. And as with the human organ- 
ism, so with the social organism. Division of Labor demands 
centralization or anarchy is the result. 

W^e, however, can very well appreciate the cause of that 
outcry. The centralization of industries that we witness around 
us is not altogether good; our mo wopoZies are not altogether 



128 EXPEDIENCY OF 

good things— that is exactly what we took pains to show in 
our second chapter — for the simple reason that they are cen- 
tered in private, irresponsible individuals, bent only on private 
gain. And so whenever any one advocates the cei;tralization 
of industrial or political activities in the State, everybody 
thinks of the present State, which, as we have seen, is as yet 
only the representative of certain classes ; everybody thus has 
in mind a private party, a power outside of the people. 

It is no wonder that people shudder at the thought of giv- 
ing unlimited, supreme control over all our social, political 
and industrial affairs to a lot of politicians of the sort that now 
sit in Washington and our State-capitals and rule us. They 
think of the princes of the IVIiddle Ages who arbitrarily inter- 
fered with and domineered over the i:>rivate affairs of their sub- 
jects and imagine that Socialists propose to introduce similar 
tyranny on a far greater scale. This must also have been in 
George's mind, when he wrote : " it is evident that whatever 
savors of regulation and restriction is in itself bad," for he 
certainly cannot mean that order and method are bad. 

It must therefore be borne in mind, that we contemplate the 
fully developed State ; the State that has incorporated in itself 
not only all social activities, but also the whole population ; the 
State where every citizen is a part of the Administration, not 
in a Pickwickian sense as now, but a real^ integral part, per- 
forming his share of it in the place where he is put ; a State 
where, according to our definition, every one is a public func- 
tionary, where therefore all State-help is really and truly Self- 
help. 

Such a State, of course, will require quite other machinery 
than any present State has got, and perhaps it is difficult to 
grasp the idea of such a State, without considering the kind 
of machinery that will be necessary to work it ; but that we 
must defer till the eighth chapter. 

In order, however, to dispel the notion that centralization of 
all social activities in the Cooperative Commonwealth implies 
any domineering whatever or anything whatever analogous 
to the arbitrary interference of medieval princes, we shall call 
attention to the parallel between that normal State and a hu- 



THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 129 

man organism. The latter possesses a central regulative sys- 
tem, which is not the man, but quite distinct from the man : 
which is but an organ, on a footing with the other organs. In 
like manner the normal State will possess its central regulative 
system and will exactly thereby distinguish itself from the 
present State, which has no such system or a but very, very 
imperfect one. But this regulative system will not be the State, 
but simply an organ, on a footing with the other organs : the 
associated worliers of each branch of Industry or social activity. 
It will, we suppose, have three essential functions: that of be- 
ing Chief Superinte7ident^ Chief Statistician diXi^i Arbitrator. Each 
of the other organs may manage their own affairs, subject simp- 
ly to the supervisory control of what we, temporarily, call the 
central regulative organ. That is the Socialist idea. 

Suppose/, i. the cotton-workers to control the whole manu- 
facture of cotton. They settle among themselves the rate of 
remuneration which shall be paid to unskilled labor and to the 
various grades of skilled labor ; they, further, calculate for 
themselves how much labor will be embodied in their products 
and from these data the remuneration to be paid to each work- 
er is a simple matter of figures. 

But the prices of the products is a matter that vitally con- 
cerns the whole people ; wherefore, most naturally, the cen- 
tral regulative organ will claim the right to have the annual 
price-list laid before it for its approval. 

The rate of remuneration and the hours of labor of these 
cotton-workers, on the other hand, only concern these work- 
ers themselves. There need be no fear, that they will not be 
able to settle these matters among themselves, for if they do 
not come to an agreement they will have to starve. It will 
not pay to " strike" in the Coming Commonwealth and there 
will be no reason for striking. Moreover, if any of the work- 
ers should feel himself aggrieved by the action of his f ellows* 
there will be the recourse to the Courts of the country left him ; 
that is, recourse to the central regulative organ as Arbitrator, 

With such an arrangement we fail to see where the "unbear- 
able " centralization will come in. Will it not rather be an 
ideal sort of self-government? 



130 EXPEDIENCY OF 

Now we can see why Socialists put such a value on Trades- 
Unions as they do. It is not that these Unions are always 
models of associations — though even the most faulty unions are 
better in every way than no unions ; — it is not that they always 
materially benefit their members, but that these Unions are 
destined to form the skeletons ot these industrial departments 
of the future of which we, in another chapter, shall have more 
to say. Especially will these Unions prove invaluable during 
the transition period. In places where they are well organized 
and embrace all the best workers of the trade, they may, on 
the establishment of the Cooperative Commonwealth, take 
possession of the industrial plant of their trade and go right 
to work as if they never had known any other arrangement. 
And that the artizans of England are already thus strongly 
organized is just a reason why we should think, that England 
may be nearer the realization of Socialism than is generally 
supposed. Organization is only second to sound ideas. 

" But, then, don't you know the Malthusiau law? Don't 
you know, that if your Commonwealth succeed as you expect ; 
if four hours of daily labor will provide the laborer and his 
family with all comforts, that then this country will very soon 
not have standing room for its population? Do you not 
know, that your Commonwealth cannot last a generation, un- 
less it commands its people when to marry and how many 
children they may have?" 

Yes, Socialists knowMalthus very well, that English cler- 
gyman, himself the father of not less than eleven children, 
who told the poor, that they have themselves to thank for 
their miseries, because, forsooth, they marry too early, and 
beget too many children ! But they also know that this doc- 
trine of his is a vicious monstrosity, hatched in the saloons of 
the wealthy and flattering to the conscience of the ruling class- 
es and that therefore it has been so widely accepted. Just as 
well say, that if you crowd millions of people into a city and 
besiege it for months, that it, also, is Nature's fault, when 
they die of starvation and plagues. 

No, neither England nor Ireland had at the time of Mal- 
thus or has had at any time since too large a population. It 



THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 131 

may be safely said, on the contrary, tbat Great Britain even 
now has too small a population for a really high civilization. 
If the smart fellows of the Stone Age had been Malthusians 
and had been able to prevent increase of population beyond 
the supply of the then existing caves^ we never should have 
had brown-stone-fronts or architects. 

Again, it is not true that the better fed and better off peo- 
ple are, the more they will propagate. The reverse is the fact. 
Hopeless poverty makes men reckless and only intent on ani- 
mal gratifications. Facts prove that the increase of any class 
is in inverse ratio to its social position and wealth. 

In England it is a matter of common observation that the 
families of the nobility and gentry constantly tend to die out. 
Here in our country it is even so. In the beginning of this 
century families with from ten to fifteen children each were 
not rare in New England ; now one with more than six is found 
only among the poor. In the Cooperative Commonwealth 
there will rather be reason to fear that the poi)ulation will 
tend to decrease than that it will ever be too redundant. 

The best service that Henry George has rendered to Social- 
ism with his " Progress and Poverty " is, that he has laid bare 
the utter absurdity of the Malthusian philosophy. All we 
now have to do, when any body brings it forward as an ob- 
jection, is to tell him to go and study the second Book of his 
work. 

If the misery of the world were caused by overpopulation, 
as Malthus would have it, then, indeed Socialism, or any oth- 
er progressive movement, would be a Utopia. Fortunately the 
reverse is true : it is 

Misery that causes Overpopulation, 



CHAPTER VI. 



SOCIAL ECONOMY, 



" The principal narrowness of Political Economists is that 
of regarding their present experience of mankind as of univer- 
sal validity, mistaking temporary pliases of human character 
for human nature itself." — Auguste Comte. 

^' The best state of human nature is that in which, while no 
one is poor, no one desires to be richer, nor has any reason to 
fear being thrust back by the ejQforts of others to push them- 
selves forward." — John Mill. 

" The citizens of a large nation, industrially organized, have 
reached their possible ideal of liappiness, when tlie producing, 
distributing and other activities are such, that each citizen 
linds in them a place for all his energies and aptitudes, while 
he obtains the means of satisfying all his desires." — Herbert 
Spencer. 

Political Economy pretends to be a science. Proudhon, on 
the other liand, remarks that the merit of Maltlius — not dreamt 
of by his admirers — is that he has reduced Political Economy 
to an absurdity. Wlien we think of the dogma of the " wages- 
fund," wliich, divided by the number of laborers, is said to 
determine the current rate of wages, Proudhon's observation 
must strike us as pat. A philosophy which turns the labor- 
question into a question in long division is certainly a counter- 
feit-science. But a legitimate Political Economy be a science, 



SOCIAL ECONOMY. 133 

it is at all events a very modern science. We do not find a trace 
or promise of it in the former liistorical periods as we do of 
the other sciences. Like Athene it came into the world sud- 
denly and full-fledged about 100 years ago. Curiously enough 
nobody seems ever to have asked for the reason for this phe- 
nomenon, and yet there must be a reason for it. AVe think 
we have found it in the fact that Political Economy concerns 
itself with the production and distribution of wealth under the 
wage-system^ exclusively ; for this explanation of course, includes 
that it would have no raison d'etre — no reason for being — under 
a system of slavery or serfage. But in order to maintain the 
nimbus of a *' science " it has to inculcate that this AVage- 
System is a permanent system, the normal condition of effect- 
ive production, and thus it has come to pass that a philosophy 
which was legitimate if it limited itself to its proper sphere : 
that of explaining the working of the present system, has been 
prostituted by being made to justify the present social ar- 
rangements, as having universal validity. 

But if, as we maintain, this wage-system is nothing but a 
temporary phase of the evolution of Society, then it follows 
that Political Economy is destined to be superceded by a new 
philosophy, a true science, as soon as the new conditions arise. 
Under Social-Cooperation we shall have a perfectly different 
Philosophy of the Production and Distribution of wealth, 
which we, not inaptly, may call Social Economy. 

But do not for a moment suppose that we here intend to 
elaborate that new science, we are all of us too much the chil- 
dren of our own age to make such an attempt. Yet we also 
know that both Americans and Englishmen cannot be expected 
to cooperate consciously with the natm-al development of the 
New Social Order before they have learned to know its lead- 
ing features and have found them on the whole desirable. Such 
an attitude is decidedly commendable, but may easily degener- 
ate into a disposition to propound conundrums, and such w^e 
are not disposed to try to solve. 

Do not forget, that Socialists are not willing to betaken for 
architects. He is a bad architect who cannot plan the building 
he is requhed to erect, to the nicest details ; who is unable to 



134 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 

tell the size of this drawiug-rooin, or the exact location of 
thut closet. Do not demand such details from us. 

liather may we liken ourselves to naturalists : a botanist 
ought to be able to tell what plant >vill develop out of a cer- 
tain seed, but he cannot tell how many leaves it will have. 

And in like manner we ought to be able to indicate the 
most striking economic consequences which with logical ne- 
cessity will flow from collective control of the instruments of 
labor. 

We can say, that Interest, Profit and Rent, being nothing 
but the spoils which private monopoly of the instruments of 
production at present enables individuals to exact, will be- 
come things of the past, as soon as the Commonwealth takes 
possession of the whole industrial and agricultural plant. 

Interest will, for the first time in human history, be given a 
fatal blow. All laws against Usury have proven worse than 
useless. When under the Roman Republic Usury was punished 
with death, it flourished the most — at the rate of a hundred 
percent. We have already seen, how in this capitalist era tlie 
taking of interest has become a normal and legitimate feature 
of our system, even one of "' the inalienable Rights of Man," 
in Bentham's w^ords. All Usury-laws limiting the rate of in- 
terest are set at defiance, simply because they clash with the 
prevaihng mode of doing business. 

The Coming Commonwealth will be the efi"ective destroyer 
of both Interest and Usuryc For when all enterprises have 
been taken in hand by Society, Wealth will no longer be used 
— and consequently will no longer be borrowed — as Capital; 
in the words of our previous definition : it can no longer be 
'•employed productively, with a viev^ to profit.^' Thus with 
tlie reason for it, with its raison Wetre^ Interest itself will cease 
to be legitimate. Interest and Usury will once more be con- 
vertible terms ; that is, it will become, as of old, infamous to 
charge interest for sums of money loaned to persons in em- 
barrassed circumstances. And who will need to be in such cir- 
cumstances? 

As a matter of course, that which now is called Profit will 
disappear. It will be added to the reward of Labor. 



SOCIAL ECONOMY. 135 

Bent jis Reat, as a tribute levied hy individual monopolists of 
land, will be no more. All land used for agricultural or in- 
dustrial purposes, will have become a part of the collective 
plant. Land used by citizens for liomes or other private pur- 
poses will yield rent or taxes — whatever j'oii choose to call 
it — to the Commonwealth; which rent will probably be regu- 
lated by Demand and Supply, for there is no reason, why the 
more desirable sites Should not then as now be the more val- 
uable. 

The Commonwealth will derive whatever revenues it need=j 
for collective purposes from two sources : Rent and, probably 
a precentage on every article sold, added to the cost of pro- 
duction, which then will mean, what '^ Cost of production '' 
should even now always, but does not always, mean : the 
Value of the article, the sum total of Labor embodied in it. 
Everybody will thus bear his share of the public charges in 
proportion to his consumption. And his consumption will 
in all likelihood be pretty nearly equal to his income. He 
will not be able very well to go beyond his income, as is so 
frequently the case now — by-the-way. this system of " living 
upon credit" is responsible for a very large proportion of the 
miseries by which modern society is afflicted ; — and he will be, 
at least, under very great temptation to spend all he earns. 
It will be public policy to encourage him in doing so. It is 
not tor the individual citizen to save, but for Society. The 
best interests of Society require that a taste for comforts and . 
enjoyments should be widely diffused and, if possible, inter- 
woven with national habits and prejudices, as Mc CuUoch re- 
marks. 

From this it will appear, that the Cooperative Common- 
wealth will have an immense advantage over all modern States 
in the matter of taxation. Not alone, that assessors and tax- 
gatherers will be dispensed with ; that there will be no possi- 
bility of evading one's contribution to the collective expenses ; 
that they will be distributed in the most equitable manner, and 
cannot be burdensome to anybody ; but the Commonwealth 
will at all times have the whole wealth of the Nation at its 
command. Suppose the rate of percentage for the ensuing 



136 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 

fiscal year, as estimated, be found to be too low, or any sudden 
emergency to arise ! There are the warehouses ! No need 
any more of issuing bonds, to be bought for half their face- 
value by greedy capitalists. 

Next, we can aifirm, that money — by which we understand 
Gold-and Silver-coin and their representatives — will become 
entirely useless in the Coming Commonwealth. We do not 
say that Society may not go on for an indefinite period using 
it for various reasons of convenience, but that not a trace of 
the necessity w^hich makes money play such important role in 
our present system will remain. 

Money is now the quintessence of Capital, or " Capital par 
excellences''^ as Lassalle called it. The manufacturer or mer- 
chant cannot make a move without Money. They may have 
their warehouses filled with merchandise, but they cannot pay 
their drafts with them. Yet many, even men of the acutest 
intellect, do not sufficiently appreciate the important function 
which Money j)erforms in our present social system. 

Thus John Ruskin compares people with partiality for mon- 
ey to children who would tear furniture to pieces and fight 
each other for brassheaded nails. 

And an economist and logician like John S. Mill speaks of 
Money as " only (!) a contrivance for saving time and labor." 

Very naive^ indeed ! As if that were not enough ! He might 
just as well dispose of railroads by remarking : " Bah! they 
are only contrivances for saving time and labor." 

Money is precisely so precious, because it, under the indus- 
trial system which we have now, is the greatest of all labor- 
saving instruments. People are separated by their interests, 
by a multiplicity of interests. Money brings them together ; 
is, as it is termed, a medium of exchange between them, That is 
the vital function of Money. That medium of exchange is the 
best which brings people together in the easiest and quiclvest 
way; and that is just what Money does better than any other 
commodity. Just as a railroad is a more efficient contrivance 
than a stage-coach, and this again than a lumber-wagon, so 
Gold and Silver are better media of exchange than wheat or 



SOCIAL ECONOMY. 137 

tobacco or oxen or any other commodity that has been tried. 
Money was invented, as any other labor-saving instrument has, 
been invented : to save time and labor ; to escape the deadlock 
of Barter. 

But what is it that makes a railroad at all useful? The fact, 
that men are separated in space. Imagine, however, that dis- 
tance were annihilated, then there would certainly be no earth- 
ly use for a railroad. ^ 

In the same manner, whenever men's interest cease to be 
adverse ; w^henever these interests become identical, as they 
will become under our Commonwealth by perfect association, 
then evidently, the business of Money will be gone. Gold and 
Silver will then become absolutely worthless as Money, as far 
as the internal affairs ot Society are concerned — they will have, 
of course, to be used as Money in all intercourse with other 
Nations who have not yet embraced Socialism. Then John 
Ruskin may assert, that they are not worth much more than 
brassheaded nails — but not till then. 

How will Exchange then be carried on ? By Account, fa- 
cilitated by some such contrivance as labor-checks. The cur- 
rent of development is running in that direction : first we have 
Barter, then Money, and even now Account is more and more 
supplanting the latter, the more and more closely we are be- 
coming associated. When in the Cooperative Commonwealth 
Money has been superannuated w^e shall have nothing but 
checks, notes, tickets — whatever jon will call them — issued 
by authority. 

"•Ah I So you Socialists are half-Greenbackers." 

You are mistaken, sir ! It would be more correct to say, 
that Greenbackers are /m?/-Socialists ; and because they are 
only that '-half" we maintain they are wholly wrong, even 
on the money-question. We have already seen that on the 
broader question of social development they are absolute re- 
actionists ; that they have no fault to find with individual own- 
ership of the instruments of labor, but war against its inevit- 
able natural development. 

By the way, there is really something curious about this 
greenback movement in our country, flow shall we account 



138 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 

for it? May not the reason for this abnormal phenomenon be 
sought in the fact that the "• Aknighty Dollar" is peculiarly 
the American /e^zs/iP 

But to return to the distinction between Socialists and the 
consistent Greenbackers : the ^a(-men. The latter propose, 
that the State shall issue its notes, tender them to its creditors 
and give them to the People saying : " Take this ! With this 
dollar-note you can go anywhere within my jurisdiction and 
buy one dollar's worth of goods with it." 

The great trouble, however, is that the State of these fiat- 
men is the i)resent State. Thej'^ want to abolish Money — that 
is the precious metals as Money— and yet to retain the present 
system of production, which is just as irrational as a scheme 
would be to abolish the Pope and still to preserve the Catho- 
lic church. For what does an assertion like the above by the 
present State amount to? It is a promise, without any possi- 
ble performance, for the simple reason that this State has ab- 
solutely no title to the goods which it thus disposes of. These 
belong, by its own sanction and concession, to individual citi- 
zens. 

N^ow note how much more logical the Socialist position is. We 
claim that the state shall first take i^ossession of and own the 
warehouses and the wares, and thereafter issue its notes. 
Then, and not till. then, the State will be so conditioned, that 
it can perform what it promises. For then it can say: Go 
into any of mi/ warehouses, and I will sell you a dollar's worth 
of my goods for this dollar note of mine." 

The distinction on the money-question then is, not alone that 
Greenbackers are but half-Socialists but that it is the latter part 
of the Socialist program which they have appropriated; they 
have put the cart before the horse. 

It will further be seen from this, that we differ from the 
Greenbackers. and agree with Political Economists in holding, 
that "■ money is the tool we use for effecting exchange by the 
help of two half -exchanges of commodity for commodity ; " 
that Money, therefore, is a commodity^ and could not be Money, 
if it were not a commodity, and that this commodity, like all 
other wares, derives its Value, partly from its scarcity, 



SOCIAL ECONOMY. 139 

but mainly from the labor crystalized in it ; and that our pres- 
ent paper-money is but a representative of Monej^. * 

But we agree with the Greenbackers in holding that Money 
is destined to be '" superannuated," if we may use the term. 
as payment in kind has long since been, and that the Credit of 
the Xation will take its place. 

We shall here make a digression to state definitely our po- 
sition in regard to compensation to the dispossessed owners 
of property, which' we left somewhat unsettled in the last 
chapter. 

We suggested there that, if the final change were accom- 
plished by force, the State would possibly expropriate our men 
of wealth without any compensation whatever. Their existing 
rights are such ivhirh the law gives and what the law gives law can 
take away. That would be done without any compunction of 
conscience, seeing that much of that wealth is obtained by 
questionable methods, and very much of it by the trickery of 
buying and selling, which never can create value, and, indeed, 
ought not to fnrnish the manipulator mere subsistence. But as 
a matter of policy the State may see fit to give the proprietors 
a fair compensation for that property which Society took 
under its control. But there are two important '• buts" to 
note. 

They will not receive any interest on the sums allowed them. 
When all interest has ceased to be legitimate throughout So- 
ciety, Society itself will hardly charge itself with that burden. 

They will not be paid in Money, but in goods, in articles of 
enjoyment, fnrnished in annuities to those whose clahn is suf- 
ficiently large. 

Suppose we owe Vanderbilt a sum equal to one hundred 
million of Dollars. We pay him a million a year for a hundred 
years, and cancel the debt. Vanderbilt could then take his 
one million in labor-checks, or whatever products he chose, 
and ninety-nine millions in non-interest bearing U. S. certifi- 
cates of indebtedness, and use them in Europe or elsewhere 

* We may here remark, thnt we also, with Political Econo- 
mists, consider our fractional currency, not Money at all. but 
mere counters, tokens; just what our labor-checks will be. 



140 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 

just as lie pleased. We should say that this would be aetmg 
very generously with him, when we remember — what it will 
not do any harm once more to call attention to, — that Society 
never yet has acted in a like spirit of social justice towards the 
working classes^ whenever they suifered injury, and grievous 
injury, by new machinery and new inventions. 

Socialists of old used to insist upon the abolition of the Eight 
of Inheritance and Bequest. Now we can see, that there ab- 
solutely will be no need for that. And it is well. For if that 
which I gain by my own labor is rightfully my property — and 
the Cooperative Commonwealth will, as we have seen, exact- 
ly sanction that claim — it will be decidedly inexpedient in that 
Commonwealth to destroy any of the essential qualities of 
property ship ; and I can hardly call that my property, which 
I may not give to whom I please after my death. Further, to 
deny me that right is undeniabl^to lessen, by so much, my in- 
centives to effort. ' 

There will be no need to do away with that right, for w^hen 
property can no longer increase from interest, and fleecings; 
wdien it no more confers power on its possessor, then Private 
wealth will become harmless. 

Take even a Rothschild. Suppose him compensated in full 
for all he is *' worth." — How abominable this phrase is! so 
very significant of our age, to call a man whose body and soul 
may not be worth a farthing to Society "• worth " millions of 
dollars — well, he will be paid in bread and meat and luxuries 
and wine and theatre-tickets. Let him enjoy these things. 
Let him fill himself to repletion ! Let him give away and 
squander the rest ! Do not be afraid, that the State will be 
burdened for many generations with these charges; his very 
next heirs will see to it, that it will not. These immense ac- 
cumulations will not last so very long, when they cease to be 
prolific. 

But our present laws of inheritance may very likely expe- 
rience great modifications. It, certainly, is absurd, that a sec- 
ond cousin of mine who does not know himself related to me, 
until there is sometliing to be gained by it, should have any 



SOCIAL ECONOMY. 141 

claim to my property after my death. But that is a matter 
toreigii to our purpose. 

'• But, to return to the money question, how will you dis- 
pense with the other function which Money now pertorms : 
that of measuring values?" 

This function of Money as a Measurer of Values is really 
but an incidental one, while that of acting as a Medium of Ex- 
change is its principal and true function. There are abundant 
reasons why the precious metals should be the media of ex- 
change, as long as we need any, but absolutely no reason can 
be given for either gold or silver being a better measurer of 
values than any other commodity. They have, in tact, always 
performed that function poorly ; gold and silver have fluctua- 
ted nearly as much as most of the wares whose values they 
had to measure. 

We saw in the first chapter, that it is really the amount of 
labor, crystalized in an article, which determines its value ; 
that it is labor which determines the '' level " value of even 
gold and silver ; that is, the value round which their market 
price vibrates. Why, then, would not a definite amount of 
labor bea far more appropriate, constant and convenient meas- 
ure? The change would have the great advantage of enabling 
the worker to know for certain what returns he receives for 
his work. He does not know it now, for Money obscures the 
transactions of all buying and selling ; it serves as a mask, 
whichthis change will tear ofl:. Instead of saying, that a coat is 
worth so many '•"dollars," we shall in the Xew Commonwealth 
discard all mystery and call it worth so much loorTc. We, there- 
fore, apprehend, that, just as one of our greenbacks promises to 
pay one dollar on demand, these labor-checks of which we 
spoke will promise to pay on demand anything of the value 
of, saj^, one day's labor or fractional part thereof. 

'*■ Well, but a day's labor by one person, and a day's la- 
bor by another are, certainly, very dilferent things. To talk 
of a day's labor as a measure is about as definite as the boy's 
comparison : *• long as a string ; ' is it not? " 

Yes, but it would make some difierence, if the boy said: 

" long as this string " and showed it to you, without allowing 



142 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 

you to measure it exactly. The unit: " a day's work" will 
mean the simplest work of average efficiency of a normal work- 
ing day. We would here recall to our readers what was said 
on Value in the first chapter. It was there stated, among oth- 
er things, that all skilled and professional work is nothing but 
multiplied common, or unskilled, work. We once more cite the 
words of Ricardo : ''The estimation of different qualities of 
Labor comes soon to be adjusted in the market with sufficient 
precision for all practical purposes." While therefore we 
grant that "■ a day's labor,'" as a unit of value, has not the sci- 
entific precision of a foot-rule as a unit of length, we claim, 
that it is well fitted to supplant the dollar-unit. When five 
days' labor is demanded for a coat, it will not be at all difficult 
for the buyer to compare that with the amount of common 
work, contained in his own day's labor. 

The distinguishing economic traits of the New Order, con- 
sidered so far in this chapter, w ere of a negative character : 
they consisted in the elimination of features that we now every- 
where meet with ; yet this change alone would make it a dif- 
ferent world from ours. In passing over to the positive char- 
acteristics of the Cooperative Commonwealth we should keep 
in mind that it is not an imaginary picture drawn on a blank 
tablet, but that it will bear the same relation to the Established 
Order that the full-blown flower bears to the green bud. This 
relationship, indeed, will make us feel quite at hom*^, if we in 
imagination take a bird's-eye view of its economic workings, 
though we should find ourselves irretrievably lost in its labyr- 
inths, if we attempted to tread our way through its details. For 
its grand industrial i)rocesses will be carried on pretty much as 
they now are, or might be, conducted in some of our best man- 
aged manufacturing or retail-selling establishments. Or it 
might perhaps suit our purpose better if we take the present 
State-management of our postal affairs as an illustration, and 
compare that with Socialist management of all our industries. 

The Postofflce Department was self-sustaining, before the 
two-cent rate was introduced, and will beyond doubt be so 
again in a short time. That is to say, its expenditures in sal- 



SOCIAL ECONOMY. 143 

aries for all in its service, and in paying for transportation of 
the mails and printing of stamps equaled, at the end of the 
fiscal year, its receipts. That is the summit of success, for to 
have a surplus, to make any "profit," is contrary to the end 
for which it is instituted. 

Let us now see how this most important matter wiU stand 
in our Commonwealth. Its receipts, — not the " revenues " of 
which we spoke a few pages back but — its gross Receipts, the 
National Income, will consist of the total results of the pro- 
ductive labor i)erformed in a given year; — by ''productive la- 
bor" is of course not meant merely agricultural and manu- 
facturing labor, but also the labor of transporting and hand- 
ling the goods, of writing books ; every kind of labor, in short, 
that creates values-in-exchange. Its Expenditures-Outgoings— 
will consist of these very receipts less all buildings and machinery, 
constructed during the year, and all that is reserved as addi- 
tion to its Capital. As the products were received or as services 
were rendered, labor-checks will have been issued, (or perhaps 
such money as we use now, w^hich then, however, will have no 
other function than the checks : that of being tickets, tokens,) 
each check will represent so and so many normal days of com- 
mon labor, and there will during each fiscal year have been 
exactly as many checks issued as will correspond to the days 
of labor, productive or unproductive, actually performed. 

The outgoings will be distributed at the various depots or 
bazaars of the Commonwealth to the holders of these checks, 
'' sold" there, in other words. These check-holders may be 
those to whom they were originally issued, or strangers visit- 
ing the country or citizens who have parted with something 
valuable for them. These bazaars will be one price establish- 
ments. The wares will have their value, real, " natural " val- 
ue, asRicardo termed it, which is— as we saw in Chapter /, — 
the amount of human labor embodied in them ; that deter- 
mines their value now, has always done it, and will de- 
termine it under the New Order. The wares will be sold for 
a price equal to that value, with possibly a percentage added. 

For it will be noted that the checks issued represent and call 
for more days labor than are contained in the products, des- 



144 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 

tined for distribution. There are, first, the checks issued to 
those citizens who have performed unx3roductive labor: phys- 
icians, judges, teachers, clerks, domestic helpers &c. and, next, 
checks for the labor contained in what is set aside as Capital. 
There are thus a good many legitimate claims which must be 
extraordinarily provided for. The Commonwealth has already 
a fund on which it can draw considerably for these purposes : 
its rent-fund. In all probability, however, an impost will, in 
addition, have to be laid on the sales ; that is, goods represent- 
ing 20 days of Labor will be sold for checks, representing, say, 
21 days of labor. This, though really plain, may seem intri- 
cate to many, but if the social transactions of to-daj^were sim- 
ilarly analyzed, they would appear fai- more complex. 

But it is of the highest importance that the Commonwealth 
shall dispose of all the products it thus offers iov distribution, 
or else there will be labor-checks outstanding which it has no 
means of satisfying. Somebody might bring forward some 
such objection as this : 

'T understood you to say that the prices will be rigidly fixed. 
But what if Demand and Supply should play you tricks? Sup- 
l)Ose a fabric goes out of fashion, so that your citizens will 
not buy it at all, or at all events refuse to pay the price that 
is put upon it. Is your Commonwealth going to force it down 
the throats of consumers'? You Socialists do not propose to 
abolish a law of ISTature, do you? " 

This is our answer : We admit that Demand and Supply is 
a natural law; that is, that if consumption and production 
does not ^t together throughout the entire extent of both, mis- 
chief will be the consequence at all times, and Socialists are 
not such fools as to suppose, that they can decree away any 
natural law or force. We do, however, suppose, that we may 
in time become as much master of the force implied in Demand 
and Supply, as we already are of other natural forces. We 
have not decreed away the laws of steam, and yet we make 
now the steam propel our ships across the ocean and carry 
our burdens across the continent. We can change or remove 
entirely the conditions under which those natural forces act, 
and, thus, without abolishing any law whatever, compel them 



SOCIAL ECONOMY. 145 

to act in a more beneficent manner; or to become latent, that 
is, to suspend their effects altogether. 

Indeed, we see almost every day how powerful private indi- 
viduals under our present system do control Supply for their 
own sinister purposes. The combinations ot lailroad com- 
panies between each other or among themselves and oil-com- 
panies of which we spoke in Chapter IIsLTe such interferences 
with a natural for.ce which, if it only were permitted to act 
spontaneously, would act most beneficently, and as to Demand^ 
it may be worth while to note that the freaks of fashion origi- 
nate usually in the private cupidity of manufacturers and even 
in that of insignificant tailors and milliners. 

The Commonwealth will use its vast power over the con- 
ditions of Demand and Supply to establish and preserve econ- 
omic equilibrium. It undoubtedly can by proper foresight and 
abundant statistics accurately adjust the supply of all prod- 
ucts to the demand for them; make Supply and Demand bal- 
ance each other. This function of Statistician will be one of 
the most important within its sphere, and the principal way 
in which it will control the workers in their industrial pur- 
suits. We think the Commonwealth will thereby be quite suc- 
cessful in keeping prices steady, and in making the chance for 
Demand and Supply to play any ''tricks" extremely small. 
We think so, because we see, with what accuracy the mana- 
ger of a large hotel hits upon the proper quantities of the innu- 
merable articles of food, required by his guests. 

But Demand and Supply will, as a matter of course, when- 
ever it gets the chance, make the prices vibrate above and be- 
low the real value. Thus, should the supply anywhere be ex- 
cessive, either from miscalculation or from the whim of fash- 
ion — which by the way, we may rest assured will be pretty ef- 
fectually curbed by Public Opinion in a society like the. Co- 
operative Commonwealth — then the goods may have to be sac- 
rificed, and the prices correspondingly lowered. The Com- 
monwealth may have to stand the loss, as the universal insurer, 
which it will be abundantly able to do. Should, on the other 
hand, the supply be deficient, as must, always be the case with 
a limited number of products (particular kinds of wine, for 



146 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 

instance.) in such case the Commonwealth will raise the price 
to correspond to the demand and be to that extent a gainer. 
Very likely this gain and loss will generally balance each other. 

Of course all export and import will be under collective con- 
trol. Apart of its receipts, so much as it judges will not be need- 
ed for home-consumption, the CommouM^ealth will exchange 
for such foreign products as there will be a home-demand for, 
and which it cannot itself produce so profitably or success- 
fully, whether it be on account of climate or other causes. 
The lines of our commerce will therefore very likely come to 
run from Korth to South rnther than from East to West. 

That is an arrangement that everybody will be satisfied with, 
a consummation which will change the discord which now ob- 
tains in regard to a tarifl" into complete harmony. It will sat- 
isfy those who now sincerely advocate a policy of protection. 
We cannot agree with Henry George when he cannot see any- 
thing but " fallacies '' and ''absurdities" in the protection- 
theory. This theory is so mucli in harmony with the present 
tendency of the State in the direction of Socialism, that we can- 
not but sympathize with it. Butthetroubleisthat our ''protec- 
tive" tariifs do not protect those who need protection^ but protect 
simply the profit-rate of employers ; the trouble is, that our 
tariffs are adopted and maintained in hypocrisy, again hypocrisy 
and nothing but hypocrisy. 

There is, on the other hand, this sound element in the free- 
trade theory that it is foolish for this country to produce here 
what we can get much more profitably and better from for- 
eign countries. But those who agitate so violently for it, ev- 
idently, do it because a free-trade policy would put money in- 
to their pockets. As long as one set of individuals see profit 
in one policy and another set in another, the tarifi" can but be 
a shuttlecock, tossed back and forth by conflicting interests. 
To frame a tariff law that will pacify all interests is about as 
ingenious an idea as to pray to God for a mild winter without 
prejudice to the coal-dealers. 

Now we come to one of the most important differences be- 
tween the condition of the workers under the New Order and 



SOCIAL ECONOMY. 147 

their condition under a system of private enterprise. Now 
the wages of the workers — and also wages of letter carriers — 
are determined, as we have seen, in the last place by what it 
costs to live and raise a family; in the Commonwealth, as our 
definition shows, the workers will be rewarded according to 
results, whether mechanics or chiefs of industry or transporters 
or salesmen. The productive workers will each receive for every 
day's common labpr a check, entitling him to one day's com- 
mon labor in return — less his share of the impost, (his pre- 
mium, it may be called, which he pays to the National Insur- 
ance Company, and his part of the public charges.) Those 
engaged in unproductive vocations will receive similar sal- 
aries out of the rent or impost-fund. They all will thus re- 
ceive the full value of their labors, and whenever they buy 
anythhig, they will simply pay wages and salaries, and no 
profits. 

•' Yes, it is easy to say, that every one, whether he be teacher 
or physician or chief of industry or artisan or hodcarrier will re- 
ceive a day's labor tor a day's labor, by which I understand you 
to mean a day of common labor for a day of common labor. But 
how is such a comparison of common labor (of a day of the hod- 
carrier's labor for instance) to be made with skilled labor or 
professional labor with perfect justice to all? And who are the 
persons who are to be intrusted with such a delicate and dic- 
tatorial function? You Socialists seem to treat this important 
matter with too great flippancy. Such a gradation of labor is, 
in fact, entirely visionary, and that is enough to relegate your 
Cooperative Commonwealth into the realm of Utopia." 

Hold on, sir ! The New Order will, by no means^ hinge up- 
on this matter. It will be realized, because Nature ordains it, 
because at a certain point in time, '^ooiQij willhaveto realize it^ 
or decay. 

And when we shall have arrived at that crisis, we hope, that 
the leaders of the Revolution will not be such visionaries as 
to commence by trying to do per/ecf justice to anybody. They 
will know better, than to assume to tliemselves the attributes 
of gods. They will, we hope, be practical men who simp- 
ly try to be as just as they can be, consistently with the best 



148 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 

interests of the whole. And we think, that they can not bet- 
ter show their practical common sense, than by adopting the 
gradation already made, that is, by retaining for an unlimited 
period the ratio of wages which, at the time of the change, 
will obtain in the various branches of manual work and for 
the different qualities of workmen. This ratio will furnish 
them a sufficiently accurate '' gradation of labor." 

To go a little into details : Suppose they go to work and 
establish, first of all, a normal day, say, of eight hours, and 
pay the workers twice the wages which each one has been 
receiving, on an average, for the ten years immediately pre- 
ceeding. We have no doubt, that the wages can be raised and 
the working day shortened that mucli with perfect safety, con- 
sidering the enormous advantages of Cooperative Industry, 
which we dwelt upon in the preceding chapter. Anyway, a 
few months experience will teach them, whether they have 
raised the wages too much, or not high enough. 

And please bear in mind that the members of each branch 
of industry and every calling will settle that matter of remu- 
neration for themselves. They will be entitled as a bod}'- to the 
proceeds of all the labor they have embodied in the product they 
create, and that they distribute among themselves just as they 
please — subject to appeal to the Commonwealth as Arbitrator. 
Dr. Green, the President of the Western Union, is reported to 
have remarked in his evidence before a Senate-Committee : 
" I shall never agree that the operators should have, or believe 
they had, the power of fixing their own salaries." They 
nevertheless will have that power sometime, doctor, as sure as 
the world moves ! 

But in regard to the work of the cliiefs of industry and pro- 
fessionals they, undoubtedly, will institute a new "gradation of 
labor." There will be no more $50,000 or $25,000 or even $10, 
000 salaries paid. These fancy salaries are now possible, and 
noAV considered proper, only, because large fortunes can at 
present be made in what is known as " business." When ' *bus- 
iness" is done away with; then their services will be compared 
with manual work, as they ought to be, and be paid for accor- 
dingly. 



SOCIAL ECONOMY. 149 

That constitutes one of the points, in which our postal sys- 
tem is not yet socialiscic. In the Cooperative Commonwealth, 
the Postmaster General will not receive .$10,000 while letter 
carriers must be satisfied with $800. 

Of course, in instituting the new " gradation " in the labors of 
the teacher, the doctor, they will make allowance for the many 
years of study these men have needed to properly qualify 
themselves, liut just in the same way the watchmaker's la- 
bor will be, and is, rated above that of the hodcarrier, because 
his years of apprenticeship must be compensated for. It means 
simply, that both professional and skilled labor is multiplied 
common labor. 

Do not here object, that if the rewards of captains of in- 
dustries and of the professions are thus reduced to a level with 
manual labor, men of genius and of natural gifts will then 
part with the management of affairs and with the professions. 

They will not, unless you also can show, that they, also, 
will leave the world on that account. 

They will find their ulterior reward in the zest of intellectu- 
al activity, the joys of creative genius, the honor of directing 
affairs and the social distinction they will enjoy. 

Do not object, either, that such a compensation runs counter 
to the Socialist principle, that everyone is entitled to the full 
proceeds of his own labor ; that, therefore, a manager who by 
his skill causes a factory to earn $100,000 may claim that 
amount as his reward . 

A man is entitled to the full proceeds of his labor — against 
any other individual, hut not against Society. Society is not 
bound to reward a man either in proportion to his services, 
nor yet of his wants, but according to expediency ; according 
to the behests of her own welfare. Man's work is not a quid 
pro quo but a trust. The other construction would lead to the 
absurdity, that no existing fortunes could give any idea of the 
monstrous accumulation of riches of the heirs of a Kepler or 
a Newton, or still more of a Robert Fulton, a Watts or a Morse, 
if these men could have claimed all the results of their inven- 
tions. 

It will thus be seen, that the labors of those invested with 



150 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 

the " delicate " function of apportioning the rewards— who 
these persons are likely to be we shall consider in the eighth 
chapter — will not be so very herculean, for the first generation, 
at least; nor need these persons be at all " dictatorial." We 
do not call our Congress " dictatorial," when it fixes the sal- 
aries of the President or of Judges. 

This will be the glorious achievement of the Cooperative 
Commonwealth : that the whole proceeds of Labor will be dis- 
tributed, exclusively, among those who do the labor. But 
what needs to be impressed upon Socialist workmen especial- 
ly, is : that common prudence should make them turn the cold 
shoulder to the idea of uZeaZZ?/ just wages, and on the other 
hand, make them satisfied with the present ratio of wages — 
at all events till a more perfect, and at the same time expedi- 
ent gradation of labor has been perfected. 

When the Cooperative Commonwealth has worked for a 
couple of generations ; when the student and the watchmaker 
are supported by the State during their years of study and 
apprenticeship and furnished all appliances requisite to their 
training, then another rule may obtain. Then, perhaps, as 
some Socialists now contend, one hour of the teacher's work 
and one hour of the hodcarrier's work will be paid for alike — 
though it must be observed, that/, i. in difficulty the teacher's 
work does not at all resemble the work of the hodcarrier — 
but to speculate upon that in our generation can properly be 
termed ^'Utopian." 

It is worth while for workingmen to study the case of the 
tailor association, founded by Louis Blanc at Clichy in 1848, 
which had to give up equal pay. 

We now, lastly, come to the greatest economic achievement 
of the Coming Commonwealth. Our definition said, that its 
citizens would be, consciously and avowedly, public function- 
aries. That, alone, is an object worth striving for, worth dy- 
ing for. 

When reformers call our workingmen " white slaves " and 
speak of their condition as " slavery," many well-meaning per- 
sons deem these terms extravagant and attribute them to dem- 



SOCIAL ECONOMY. 151 

agoglsm. N"ow, in all soberness, are they extravagant? 

We shall entirely omit any reference to extreme cases of 
oppresssion on the part of employers towards their employees, 
and confine ourselves to what all wage-workers must submit 
to — whether they be mechanics, clerks or telegraph-operators. 
And let us remark that here, as wherever we have spoken of 
" wage-workers," we have excluded and do exclude domestic 
servants of every sort. We have already seen that these 
workers are obliged to go into the general market with their 
labor, which is their ware, and there sell it for a price, vibra- 
ting now a little above, now a little below, what is necessary to 
their subsistence. 

Now, what does this " selling their labor" amount to? 

We know a man who, though he is far from being a Robert 
Owen, may very well in regard to sincerity, kindness and ha- 
tred of all shams be compared to that philanthropist. He was 
a prominent Abolitionist, but is not particularly averse to the 
present industrial system, which, indeed, has enabled him to 
gather in quite a respectable fortune by the simple process of 
buying and selling. We think he is a good sample of the best 
kind of employers. To his clerks he is fond of remarking: 
''Your time is mine, you know" and heputs this theory into prac- 
tice to its fullest extent. If any one should suggest to him that 
he, the model of an employer, was a — slaveholder, ( !) he 
would be very much surprised. 

Yet what does this phrase imply? "Your time is mine" 
means " your body is mine, your actions are mine for so many 
hours out of the twenty four. You must do nothing, say noth- 
ing, go nowhere as you please but as /please. I want you to 
do this thing now,or," of course it is understood, " I discharge 
you." His clerks are subject to his individual, irresponsible will ; 
their preferences are not so much as thought of. 

Wliat in the name of reason is that but slavery? Was not 
" your time is mine " the very essence, the definition of negro- 
slavery? True, a master could sell his slave ; but there cer- 
tainly were many masters who did not dream of ever selling 
their negroes ; were these therefore less slaves? True, a mas- 
ter could whip his slave; but our employer can discharge his 



152 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 

clerks whenever it takes his fancy, which prohahly would have 
worse consequences for the clerks than a whipping would. 
The fact is, these were mere accessories. Slavery is not yet 
abolished. The very principle, subjection^ which ruled under 
ancient slavery, under serfage, and negro slavery, rules j^et 
under the wage-system. That makes the system essentially 
immoral; it demoralizes the employer as well as the em- 
ployee. 

And this relation becomes absolutely unbearable, if, as very 
often is the case, the employee has more knowledge, more 
brains, a fuller head, in short, than his employer — for it has 
rightly been said that all that is necessary to success in busi- 
ness is " great concentration, continuous application and an 
absurdly exaggerated idea of one''s own importance'''' — it is unbear- 
able, when the employee feels that in a social system where 
position depended upon merit he would be the one in authority. 

There is no halting place between Subjection and Inter-de- 
pendence. Independence cannot be had for all. The em- 
ployer we referred to boasts of being independent. The trouble 
is he is too independent : one man cannot be independent, with- 
out making others dependent on him. The wage-system is 
only Subjection in a milder form, perhaps ; another instance 
of the chronic hypocrisy of our age. That is shown very well 
by the constant talk about the relation of the wage-workers 
being one of contract. Well ! if it is, it is a very one-sided 
contract, one where the employee has but to say "Amen." 
By selling his labor the ivage-ioorJcer virtually sells himself. 

The Cooperative Commonwealth will abolish slavery by the 
roots by raising all private employments to the dignity of pub- 
lic functions. This change, while it will not essentially alter 
the existing mode of exercising them, will yet alone transform 
their general spirit, for it will forever, Jirst^ do away with De- 
pendence of one individual upon another; next^ take away 
from those in authority the irresponsible power of Discharge, 
and, lastly, relieve the worker from the necessity of going in- 
to the market and selling himself as a ware. 

Do not, however, suppose, that there will be no subordina- 
tion under the new order of things. Subordination is an ab- 



SOCIAL ECONOMY. 153 

solute essential of Cooperation ; indeed, Cooperation is Disci- 
pline. 

Do not suppose, either, that Demand and Supply will cease 
altogether to have an influence on Labor. As a natural force, 
it will exert itself whenever it gets a chance, but the com- 
ing Commonwealth will see to it that, whenever it does act, it 
acts beneficently. We shall see here in what manner. 

It is as w^e have stated, for the Commonwealth to determine, 
in its character of Statistician, how much of a given product 
shall be produced the coming year or season. That is pre- 
eminently its sphere, however much the workers of the differ- 
ent branches will otherwise be left to manage their own affairs, 
huppose in a given industry production will have to be narrow- 
ed down to one half the usual quantum. It follows, that in 
such case the workmen can only work half the usual time and 
that there will only be one half the usual proceeds to be dis- 
tributed among them. 

"VVliat must be the result? Evidently the men's remunera- 
tion will have to be reduced one half, or a corresponding num- 
ber of workers will have to pass over to some other employment 
— for tiie consequences of such a disorder, which may be per- 
manent and is not the result of either miscalculation or misfor- 
tune, will, certainly, not be borne by Society at large ; and the 
Commonwealth, while it guarantees auitahle employment, can 
certainly not guarantee a particular employme]it, to every- 
body. 

A change of occupation, however, will in that Commonwealth 
be tolerably easy for the worker. On account of the high grade 
of general education, and because all will have passed through 
a thorough apprenticeship in general mechanics. Certain crit- 
ics of Socialism object that no person under it will have any 
effective choice in regard to employment. The above shows 
how little foundation there is for such a criticism. But we 
should like to know how much '• effective choice " the vast ma- 
jority of men now have in regard to employment or wages, or 
place of abode or anything else. 

Another critic once remarked to the writer in regard to the 
Commonwealth absorbing all social activities ; '' What a tyr- 



154 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 

anny, to forbid a Meissonier to paint a little bit of canvass and 
sell It for $100,000, if anyone would buy it? " Why, it would 
be tyranny to forbid it. And we have no reason to think it 
will be forbidden. We therefore also said that there might 
be citizens who would acquire labor-checks by parting with 
something valuable to other citizens, But, really, we do not 
suppose there will be any citizen in The Cooperative Common- 
wealth, when some time has elapsed, who has got $100,000 to 
squander on a bit of canvass, and none should deplore it, for 
if that fact would deprive the Commonwealth of Meissoniers^ 
it surely will not rob it of Baphaels or Michael Angelas. It is 
just one of the curses of this age that it has out of artists made 
lackeys of the rich. Phidias, Eaphael, Michael Angelo, min- 
istered to the People. 

We now shall consider how it is possible to have due subor- 
dination in a State where all dependence of one individual 
upon another is destroyed. The political expression of Inter- 
dependence is — Democracy, 



CHAPTER VII. 



DEMOCKACY VerSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 



'^ ' Behold ! Now I, too, have my twenty-thousandth part of 
a Talker in our National Palaver.' — What a notion of Lib- 
erty!" — Carlyle. 

'' I believe that party, instead of being a machinery neces- 
sary to the existence of free government, is its most danger- 
ous foe, and that in order to get anything which really de- 
serves the name of republican government, we must destroy 
party altogether." — A True BepubUc by Albert Stickney. 

" Nay, must we not rather confess, that that unlovely crea- 
ture, the habitual office-seeker, is as natural a product of our 
political and social conditions as the scrub-oak is of the soil, 
when it has been laid waste by the removal of the primeval 
forest?" — Bichard Grant White^ iV. A. Beview^ July 1882. 

At this stage, certainly — and probably as soon as the idea of 
Collective Control of all the affairs of the Nation was broached 
— many an inquirer exclaims with supreme disgust : 

'•• So you actually propose to increase the spoils of office a 
hundred, yea a thousandfold ! What a bedlam you would make 
of these United States at election times ! ! ! And then noth- 
ing short of a revolution would ever suffice to dislodge the 
party in possession of the government, however much it 
may have mismanaged public affairs. Why, this is enough to 
prove the Utopian nature of your scheme ! " 



156 DEMOCRACY verSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 

Wait a moment, friends. We have so far only shown you 
the front-view of our Commonwealth, its economic side. Your 
objections would be unanswerable and j^our disgust in order, 
if the Socialist Begime implied the retention of our present 
political machinery. 

We insist on d^ political change hand in hand with the econ- 
omic change. We insist on new machinery for the new mo- 
tive power ; on new bottles for the new wine. Our political 
program is just as vital a part of our prospective Common- 
wealth as our economic program is. The political machinery 
of our country would be most clumsy and unsuitable to the 
workings of the New Order. It would of necessity have to 
be discarded tor something more suitable, jnst as the young 
man has to discard the clothes of his boyhood which he has 
outgrown. 

This frank avowal will, undoubtedly, hurt more prejudices, 
than even our economic ideas did. 

"What ! do you, Socialists, dare to think of laying your im- 
pious hands ou this glorious Constitution of ours? What a 
sacrilege ! " 

Softly ! Listen to the following : 

" The idea that some men now hold, that this Constitution 
is the one perfect piece of political machinery that the world 
has ever seen, is a weak growth of later years. The men of 
1787 knew better. No one of them thought It the best form of 
government that could be devised. It was the only form on 
which they could then agree. They began an experiment — 
we have its results. Is it possible, that from those results we 
can learn nothing? And are we forever to use the machinery 
of a past age, throwing away all the teachings of later years? " 

He who wrote those sentences is no Socialist. He is an 
American to the manor born, and a matter-of-fact lawyer. 
His name is Albert Stickney, author of *' A True Republic,"" 
published by the Harpers. His 4th and 6th Chapters ought 
to be read by every inquirer as an introduction to the politi- 
cal ideas of Socialists. The fact of Stickney being a lawyer 
makes him exceedingly keen in exposing the defects in our 
political machinery, while his practical commonsense, in 



DEMOCRACY VBTSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 157 

which he shows himself a typical American, renders him one 
of the best advocates we could have. As Ricardo prepared 
the way for our analysis of our present economic relations, and 
Spencer tor constructive Socialism, so Stickney performs 
that service for us with our countrymen in regard to the po- 
litical changes which we contemplate. 

In the two chapters we have called attention to he discuss- 
es first, with a wealth of illustration, the evils and abuses of 
party-rule as we have it here. If that were all, he would not 
have done anything extraordinary. Most people admit these 
evils. But most men, also, think them mere accidents of the 
time and that they are far ' outweighed by the good results 
which party brings. Stickney's merit consists in showing, 
that parties — by which term must always be understood perma- 
nent parties — have no good results at all, and that it is our 
frame of government which is responsible for those evils. 

He says very pointedly : 

'^ When we said (as we did in effect in our Constitution,) all 
public servants shall depend for keeping their offices, not on 
whether they do their work well or ill, but on carrying the next 
election, then, instead of giving them each a separate interest 
to do his own work well, we gave them all one common in- 
terest to carry the next election. We made it certain, that they 
would combine and form parties, for the purpose of carrying 
elections. 

"• But there was another point. The knowledge which all 
men had, that at the end of a fixed time there would be a 
large number of vacancies, made it certain, that other men 
who were not in office would combine for the purpose of get- 
ting out the men who were in office, and getting in them- 
selves. The term-system was certain, then, to create two 
great iDarties for the purpose of carrying elections. The men 
who were in formed a party to keep office. The men who were 
out formed a party to get office." 

^'Whether they wished it or not, our public servants were 
driven by this point in our system of government to make 
this work of carrying elections their regular profession. In 
that profession they gained great skill. In that work they 



158 DEMOCEACY VeVSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 

were sure to have more skill than the ordinary citizens who 
gave their time and thought to other things. The profession- 
al n.ust always beat the amateur. * * * The natural and cer- 
tain result was that party leaders, for party ijurposes, con- 
trolled the elections of public servants, and the action of pub- 
lic servants after they were elected." 

But enough of quotation. Stickney comes to the conclusion 
that the term-system will have to be abolished ; but the term 
system is the very corner-stone of our ''Constitution." 

That is certainly a very vigorous way of questioning that 
instrument — especially for an American lawyer. 

We shall have to be broader in our criticism than Stickney 
(though we can hardly be said to be more radical,) for the 
objective points at which he and we aim are rather diiferent. 
He wants a machinery which shall insure good work in the 
affairs with which government is now charged. We want a 
machinery fit to transact all the affairs of the Nation. 

TJie New Order cannot use a machinery which allows the reign- 
ing party to be master of the situation. 

Kow the successful par^^ appoints the people's rulers, and 
all public affairs are conducted with a view to party interests. 

For as Stickney remarks : 

"The people on the day of election have at most the 
choice between two men or sets of men ; and with the point 
who these two sets of men are to be the people at large 
have little or nothing to do. It may be said, that the 
people can have something to do with the selection of the 
candidates. However that may be, it is the fact, that they do 
not, and we are here considering the way our system really worksy 

No one will deny that all our elective officers, from head to 
foot, are elected, not by tlie people, but by the caucus of the 
party which happens to be successful. And the caucus or con- 
vention is simply an irresponsible gathering of men whom sel- 
fish interests draw and bind together. Listen to the " N. Y. 
Tribune, " now a good party-organ : 

*•' The Republican vote in this city (New York) two years 
ago was 81,730. It is the simple truth to say that not more 



DEMOCRACY VeVSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 159 

than fifty men had anything to do with tlie actual choice of 
the delegates who went to Saratoga (1882) with a pretence 
of representing the great body of voters." 

Next, olRcial action has ever since Thomas Jefferson iound- 
ed the first opposition party, been directed to the service of 
party interests instead of the people's interests. Our ofiicials 
are and must be pliant men ; if not, they are driven from pub- 
lic life ; these are njatters of notoriety. Even such an honest 
man as Lincoln had to make scandalous appointments. His 
Secretary of the Interior declared, that, if he dared, he could 
run his department with half his force of clerks and for half 
its cost. Such another would-be-honest president as Hayes 
had to pay for electoral votes with the people's offices. 

Our institutions, instead of subserving public interests, are 
political /oriresses. '■'Think what is at stake this fall — a total 
of two hundred and thirty places in the county of Oneida .'" ex- 
claimed a Utica paper during a late election. And yet people 
who superciliously call Socialism a Utopia imagine that an act 
of Congress can give us civil service reform ! Do they really 
believe that figs will grow on thistles? 

No, attend for once to the essentials : destroy these parties 
which at present are the people's masters ; which, as Stickney 
so abundantly proves, in a normal State are unmitigated evils 
and these trifles are certain to right themselves. But please 
distinguish between combinations of men for the purpose of 
carrying measures — which always will exist — and our perma- 
nent parties, standing parties as they may be called. In our 
party contests men do not battle for measures, they fight for 
candidates. '' Our parties do not elect men to put into action 
certain principles ; they use principles as battle-cries to elect 
certain men." Take a glance. /. i. through the socalled '•'■ po- 
litical records" oi Harper's Magazine. We find from first to 
last, nothing, absolutely nothing., but the names of men and 
the offices for which they, respectively, have been nominated 
or elected. " Politics," then, from being the Science of Gov- 
ernment has become— Cooperative Office-seeking ! 

It w^as wise to form a party as a necessary organ of resist- 
ance to negro-slavery. But wiien that object was gained, then 



IGO DEMOCRACY VerSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 

tlie need of party was gone; from that moment the Republi- 
can party became nothhig but a faction, stuffed full with 
, dollars. 

The New Order cannot use a machinery which renders our leg- 
islators the peopWs masters and allows them to conduct public 
affairs loith a view to private and class interests. 

Our history furnishes some signal instances in point. The 
people have quite frequently demanded the resignation of their 
representatives ; State legislatures have demanded it of their 
senators — instances therefore where there could be no doubt 
of the identity of the constituency — and what has been the 
answer? 

" You have no business at all to demand my resignation. It 
is absolute presumption in you to do so." 

A perfectly correct answer according to our constitution. 
They might with perfect propriety, constitutionally speaking, 
have added ; ' 'You call yourselves Sovereigns, and- verily think 
yourselves such. Deluded Nobodies that j^ou are I You were 
Sovereigns the moment you elected me, but in doing so, you 
abdicated in favor of me. Please wait till my term is out. 
Till then I am the Sovereign. Then you can once more call 
yourselves " Sovereigns" for a moment in order to elect some 
other Master over you." 

Is not that literally true ? — And yet our Government is called 
a Democracg ! 

We, with Stiekney, propose to put an end to this term-^j^- 
tem, but we go further and say that tlie whole system of rep- 
resentation is unfit for a higher civilization. 

Is not Carlyle perfectly right when he sneers at that kind of 
'' liberty " which consists in having, as a voter has in our coun- 
try, a forty-thousandth part of a Talker in our '' National Pa- 
laver?" And even that Talker, though he is called my repre- 
sentative, may not, to that infinitesimal fraction represent rue. 
That is a nice sort of " representative," against whose election 
I voted and perhaps worked. No matter! by voting at all I 
express my willingness to submit to a possible or probable ma- 
jority against me. But I should haTti had to submit, if Iliad 



DEMOCRACY vevSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 161 

not voted at all ; so whether I vote against him or not at all^ 
that man is still my '' representative! " 

Very many schemes for doing away with this monstrous fea^ 
ture have been propounded, preeminently that of the English- 
man Hare, which is almost perfect in its way, but which is ab- 
solutelj'- impracticable, as long as we have standing parties. 

All these schemes, moreover, are in themselves failures, be- 
cause they aim at giving theoretical improvement to that which 
is fallacious in itself, for that is what representation is. 

How can I say that what my representative will tomorrow 
that I also will? 

'* Nice sovereigns ! " Rousseau said, " whose only function 
in government is to obey." 

The simple and plain fact is' that our boast of " self-govern- 
ment " is mere cant ; the '• representative " or '' parliamentary " 
government was not intended to represent the People, but is a 
rude device for securing power to our leading classes^ that is 
why we find so many lawyers — the retainers of our Plutocracy 
— in the legislative seats. Hence it is an essentially tempora- 
ry expedient. 

The New Order will have no use for Presidents and Governors 
who^for their term of office^ are masters of the situation. 

Our President is, even when he rebels against his party, 
excedingly powerful for mischief, at all events. But when 
loyal to his party he is a veritable king^ a dress-coat-Mng, 'tis 
true, but more powerful than any crowned king. 

Me cannot declare war, but he can create one. He cannot 
make treaties, but he can force them on the nation. He can 
nullify the laws by his pardon. His will and temper is the 
only rule for his veto power. He acts. Congress talks. He 
has a thousand means at his command to show favors to Con- 
gressmen. He is every year for many months the uncontrolled 
monarch of the country. In war he is almost absolute. And 
yet our country is called a Bepul>lic ! — But then, it must be ad- 
mitted that it was only an accident that made us a republic. 

The New Order will know nothing of such an office. 

It will know nothing of it because, as Goldvviu Smith said 



162 DEMOCRACY VerSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 

in an excellent article in the Atlantic Monthly for January 
1879, entitled : ''Is Universal Suflrage a Failure ? " 

" It (the Presidency) is at once the grand prize and the 
most powerful stimulant of faction." 

The Presidency is truly under our system "the grand prize" 
that fosters an ambition which no citizen in a republic ought 
to entertain and which has ruined the usefulness of so many 
of our best men. 

The Presidency is the chief "spoil" and source of other 
spoils. We all remember the frankness of Flanagan in a late 
National Convention : "What are we here for if not the spoils ? " 
When the Cooperative Commonwealth abolishes this chief 
spoil with all other spoils, and thus stops their pay, our stand- 
ing parties will dissolve for want of cohesion, as standing 
armies do, when their pay stops, 

But what does this discarding of these prominent features 
of our government mean ? It means that the only political ma 
chinery fit for the Cooperative Commonwealth is Democracy. 

For however hazy the meaning of that word is, nobody can 
fairly object if we, temporarily, define " Democracy " as that 
form of administration where no one of the public officers is 
at any time the master of the situation ; where, consequently, 
none of the public affairs can at any time be conducted with a view 
to private or class interests. 

The New Order will, further, discard the system of ap- 
pointments /ro7?i above., which is simply the principal means by 
which our ruling classes exercise their power. 

It Avill throw overboard the doctrine of the three "coordinate" 
powers; that is, the doctrine that the functions of government 
should be distributed among three departments : the legisla- 
tive, executive and judicial, wholly independent of, and yet 
checking each other. 

This doctrine amomits to this, that laws should be enacted 
in one spirit, interpreted in another, and executed in a third 
spirit, which is preposterous. The theory of checks and bal- 
ances is one born of passions, engendered by struggle against 
arbitrary power ; not ona hovw of philosophical observations. 
This fact was entirely misconceived by Montesquieu — that em- 



DEMOCRACY VeVSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 163 

bodied Empiricism — and strangely enough, also overlooked by 
our practical forefathers, as noticed by Prof. Goldwin Smith 
in the article above mentioned. 

The New Order will have no use whatever for a Senate. 

It is useless. As John Stuart Mill remarks : '-In times of 
violent excitement, the only times, when it might produce 
more good than harm, it is destined to become inoperative." 
Those who object, that the one chamber system has always 
been the forerunner of the usurper, seem never to have thought 
of the circumstance, that the usurper has always introduced the 
two-chamber system. With the National Senate will go the 
doctrine of state-sovereignty, which, though decrepit, is not 
yet dead. The doctrine is a relic of our infancy, when we Were 
small, undeveloped scattered communities such as all civilized 
nations have started with. It is worthy of observation, that 
dual sovereignty has been the historical development of Great 
Britain, Germany, Sweden, Italy, Spain and France, as well 
as our country. 

The Cooperative Commonwealth will only know of a Nation, 
with a big, very big N. Our present state-lines only work mis- 
chief. Parts of New Jersey and Delaware belong as much to 
Philadelphia as any part of Pennsylvania does, and New Jer- 
sey, Rhode Island and Connecticut are far more intimately 
connected with New York city than is Western New York. 

"And when you, thus, have succeeded in doing away with 
the Term System, the Representative System, the Presidency, 
the three Coordinate Powers, the Senate, State Sovereignty and 
Appointments from above — in short with our whole Consti- 
tution, be good enough to tell us what other constitution 
it will please your Cooperative Commonwealth to give us " 

An inquirer will very naturally, at this stage, ask some such 
question. It would remind us, that we have not yet made our 
fundamental position in regard to political changes clear. 

Constitutions are not at all things to be given or taken away at 
pleasure. 

What is a Constitution? 



164 DEMOCRACY VerSUS PAETY GOVERNMENT. 

"Wlien we speak of the Constitution of the solar system, we 
mean by that term the attraction of the sun which so regulates 
the movements of the planets that this movement cannot be 
otherwise than what it is. When we in the same sense— the 
proper sense — speak of the Constitution of a country, we do 
not mean that piece of paper which is called a '' Constitution," 
but the organic power that makes necessary the institutions 
ichich we find. It is therefore a fundamental mistake to think, 
that our country with her tunYiew " constitution " occupies a 
peculiar position. 

Every country has and always had a constitution. A king 
with an army at his back is a large part of a constitution. The 
motto of Louis XIV; '•''Vetat c^est moi^'' (" I am the State ") 
was as fully the constitution of France as any constitution she, 
or any country, ever had. The peculiarity of modern times con- 
sists simply in a piece of paper, simply in the giving written ex- 
pression to the organic power. But if such a written " constitu- 
tion " does not correctly respond to this organic power — as 
the '• constitutions " ot France during the Revolution did not, 
and as the "constitution" of the present German Empire 
does not — it is not worth the paper it is written on. If it, on 
the other hand, does so respond, it is like a swiftly flying buzz- 
saw — dangerous to go too near to. 

The short history of our own country, even, bears us out 
in this view. Our present "constitution" is a very different one 
from what it was in 1850. The point of change was the 
period when people prated about " upholding the constitu- 
tion." Whenever a "Constitution" needs being " upheld," 
it is going, or gone. During that period was promulgated 
the "DredScot" decision, which, undoubtedly, was a cor- 
rect "constitutional" decision. Yet it was but an idle breath, 
or, if it had any effect, it was to make our people, (so approv- 
ingly styled " a law abiding people,") subvert the very " con- 
stitution," that was the sanction of the decision. 
What was the matter? 

The organic power in the Nation was simply changing. 
Mark! it was the Abolition of Slavery which amended our " con- 



DEMOCRACY VeVSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 165 

stitution^'''' emphatically not the amendments to the " constitu- 
tution " which abolished Slavery. 

Is this Socialist view of the organic law of a country not far 
more philosophic thaix the vulgar one, held by our " states- 
men " or even by such an eminent authority as Judge Story, 
who reduces the whole science of government to — a eulogy 
of the "Constitution?" 

It remains true, reader ! No army of lawyers, nor of soldiers, 
can uphold a >' constitution," when the centre of gravity of 
Society has changed its position. 

Socialists, then, have no thought whatever of •' laying im- 
pious hands" on this glorious paper " constitution" ot ours, 
or of " giving " to, or imposing upon, our country a new frame 
of government of our own; just as little as we fancy, that we 
can change its economic conditions. 

It is the Logic of Events that will accomplish both these 
changes. 

But mark the radical diflference between the economic and 
the political revolution. 

The economic relations of the Cooperative Commonwealth 
will evolve out of our present industrial conditions, as we at- 
tempted to show in the preceding chapters. But the form of 
administration of that Commonwealth will not be an out- 
growth of our present form of government. 

It is true, that the political system we now are living under 
is an outgrowth of our colonial system, but the representative, 
parliamentary system (the only one with which our country in 
her short history has been familiar, and which at present pre- 
vails in a more or less developed form in all civilized countries 
except Russia) is not an outgrowth of the feudal system, pre- 
vailing during the Middle Ages, nor was the latter an out- 
growth of the ancient forms of government. 

For forms of government are nothing hut forms. They are not 
the substance of society. Theyareonly coats, that may, or may 
not, fit the backs . But they are not the backs ; economic con- 
ditions are the backs. _ Or, to use the other appropriate figure : 
forms of governments are nothing but machinery, but econo- 
mic conditions are the steam, without which the machinery 



IGG DEMOCRACY VeVSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 

is useless. 

It will be seen from this, that those are egr egiously mistaken 
who charge Socialists with having a "faith in the sovereign 
power of political machinery." We believe, on the contrary, 
that forms of governments, in themselves, amount to noth- 
ing; that civil liberty, by itself, is hardly worth the trouble 
of agitation, that political freedom won, nothing may yet be 
won — but emptiness. 

We believe, that economic and industrial relations are every- 
thing, wherefore also we devoted the first six chapters to 
them. Just as the steam-loom took the place of the hand- 
loom, and the steam-thrasher of the flail, when steam became 
the motive power instead of human muscles, or as the mau 
must discard his boy's jacket, so we say the Cooperative Com- 
monwealth will have as it grows into existence to relegate 
the whole machinery with which we are now familiar: Pres- 
ident and Representatives and coordinate powers and state- 
lines to the lumber-room of the past. 

That is what this capitalist regime did as soon as it had grown 
up to manhood. It dispensed as fast as it could with every 
feature of the feudal system and substituted for it the system 
which allowed it to .work to the best advantage, to-wit, the 
representative system. 

If, therefore, we want to form any conception of the political 
or judicial administration of the Cooperative Commonwealth, 
we must imagine this present ''constitution" of ours wiped 
out, first of all. Our inquirer and those opponents of Social- 
ism who call attention to the incompatibility between it and 
our present frame of government, are therefore perfectly right : 
The United States would, in truth, become a bedlam at election 
times. 

We hail it as a good sign, that an Amercan, lawyer like 
Sticknej'", and with him the whole new generation, is getting 
into the habit of questioning even '' the wisdom of our fore- 
fathers." 

Well, they were wise in their generation. They conformed 
to the organic power of their day. Let us and those who will 
come immediately after us be as wise in our and their genera- 



DEMOCRACY VeVSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 107 

tions! At any nate we cannot help ourselves. Democracy i& 
what we are inevitably tending to, which will crush the Re- 
publican and '' Democratic'' parties as easily as if they were 
egg-shells. 

, And do not have any fear, that we shall then or ever be with- 
out a constitution. No, not for one moment. The new con- 
stitution will form itself as naturally as the ice forms upon the 
water, when the freezing x)oint is reached. 

But we must now know, not alone what ' ' Democracy " is not, 
but what it is, and not so much, what the loord means, but 
what the thing really is which we have in mind when we pro- 
nounce the word. 

The word comes from the Greek word "demos,'' which 
means " the people." That gives us, however, just as poor 
an idea of what " Democracy,'^ is, as the information that "• Ev- 
olution " is derived from a word that means '• to roll out " en- 
ables us to know what evolution is. That it is which has giv- 
en us the definition found in dictionaries, that '' Democracy" 
is '• government by majorities," government by " counting of 
heads," as Carlyle has it. But government of majorities may be 
just as " undemocratic " as the rule of any other class. 

No, let us turn to the " back " which the " coat " is to fit. 

We saw that the Cooperative Commonwealth will incorx^or- 
ate the whole population into Society. It will destroy classes en- 
tirely. And with classes will go all "rule." 

The '"' whole people" does not want, or need, any *' govern- 
ment" at all. It simply wants administration — good adminis- 
tration. 

That will be had by putting every one in the position for 
which he is best fitted, and making everyone aware of the fact 

That is what Democracy means ; it means 

Administration by the Competent* 



CHAPTER Vni. 

ADMDsTSTRATION OF AFFAIRS 
IN THE COOPERATIVE COIOION WEALTH. 



" Our self-government is amateur-administration, govern- 
ment by amateurs." — Greg. 

" The feeling of Equality is growing fast. It makes men 
chafe more and more under the personal power of individuals, 
on a political level with themselves. But they will submit 
willingly to power that comes from above and is impersonal." 
— Dr. Woolsey, Communism and Socialism. 

" In your trades-societies you have acquired the instinct of 
trusting your leaders, of acting with decision, concentration 
and responsibility. * * * The mass supplying breadth and en- 
ergy of principle ; your agents giving it concentration and 
unity. Let your watchword be : ' Contidence in tried leaders ! 
Loyal cooperation each with all ! ' " — Frederic Harrison, Order 
and Progress. 

We have now two definitions of Democracy, * one negative, 
the other affirmative, which together complete our conception 
of a Socialist Administration : that of competent and qualified 

* It is annoying, that when we in our country use the word 
" Democracy," we have to apologize for its debasement from 
being appropriated by that party of negations calling itself 
''•the Democratic Party," whose only affirmative principle is 
the decrepit doctrine of ~ ~- - 



ADMINISTRATION . 169 

functionaries, wJiose interest is entirely coincident with their duty. 

But right here we shall be challenged. It may be said that 
this may be a good conception of a good administration, bu^ 
that it is not "• Democracy." Some will quote Frederic Har- 
rison to the effect that '' Democracy exists when each man 
holds himself as wise a ruler as his fellow ; where Govern- 
ment is a scramble open to every glib talker." Others think 
with Carlyle that in a Democracy the people solve every prob- 
lem by saying " let us take a vote " and counting the heads. 
Others, again, will point to the article by Jesse Jones on " the 
Labor Question " which we in a former chapter mentioned with 
approval, andremmdus that Jones there takes for granted, that 
our future economic system will Qonform to our primitive politi- 
cal system ; that is, assumes that all affairs will be conducted on 
the "town-meeting "-plan. " What is that," they will ask, 
"but the Abomination of Frederic Harrison and Carlyle?" 

This is a perfectly fair objection, to which we shall give an 
answer that cannot possibly be misunderstood. If the " town- 
meeting-plan," if that which Frederic Harrison, Carlyle and 
Jesse Jones agree in calling '• Democracy " is properly named 
by them, then we must find another name for the Administration 
of Public Affairs under the New Social Order. The object of 
Chapter VII was not so much to show that our present 
form of government, our written " constitution," is un-demo- 
cratic, as to point out that it is utterly unfit to furnish a good 
administration of the people's affairs. The object of this Chap- 
ter, in the first place, is to suggest the machinery that we have 
reason to assume will be adopted to carry on all the affairs of 
the Coming Commonwealth. This is the important matter 
for consideration, which we shall not allow to degenerate into 
a dispute about words. Yet, we shall also claim, that the Ad- 
ministration of the Future has an eminent, perhaps an exclu- 
sive, right to the name of " Democracy ; " but that is a subor- 
dinate matter. 

The "town-meeting" plan, the plan of "counting heads," 
will evidently be wholly unsuitable in the Cooperative Com- 
monwealth. If our public aft'airs 7iow have altogether out- 
grown that primitive plan, how much more when " public af- 



170 ADMINISTRATION 

fairs" will mean all affairs, with industrial affairs in the fore- 
ground'? No argument should really be needed to convince 
anybody, that a Nation that conducted all its affairs as Jones 
will have them conducted would very soon become bankrupt. 

But this, that such an Administration as we have indicated 
in our definition will be the yqyj one needed is not all : it will 
be the very one which the future Constitution— reaZ constitu- 
tion — of Society will necessitate. 

We have already emphasized as much as we could, that the 
great achievement of the Coming Commonwealth will be to 
incorporate the whole population into Society,to shift the 
Centre of Gravity of Society, to make the Working-Classes 
the organic power of Society. The great body of our people 
are manifestly dictated to as much as any other people. 
Though legally, that is, theoretically^ the people here are 
governors, practically they have no more power over leg- 
islation than they have over Crises, over Production or Com- 
merce. And the reason is, simply, that the Working-Classes 
have not yet got the real social power, for whatever is the 
strongest power in Society is the governing authority. 

Well, all the evidence we now possess tends to prove that 
the Working-Classes, when they once become the organic force 
in the State, will favor such an Administration as w^e have de- 
fined. 

Study the Trades-Unions here and those of England and learn 
from them, how workingmen go about their own affairs. Have 
the members of these Unions ever shown any anarchic spirit? 
Amongst the many things that have been said of and against 
them, have they ever been charged with evincing any instinct- 
ive thirst for each man having his own way ?— which is the spirit 
of Anarchy. Is it not, contrariwise, true, that they always 
have been willing to acknowledge that some were wiser than 
themselves, and that, when they thought they had hit upon 
the right leaders, they have been willing to thrust their whole 
collective power into their hands? In short, is it not true, 
what Frederic Harrison says of them, that "they trust their 
leaders and act with decision, concentration and responsibil- 
ity." 



OF AFFAIRS. 171 

Now, these Working-Classes, who represent so to speak, 
the whole social body, of which the other classes only are 
special organs, will decide what the Administration of the Fu- 
ture is'to be. 

"We avoid, purposely, saying thtxt they willhsiYe the political 
power, for "'• political " power, " Politics " '' Politicians " will 
be unknown terms under the New Order. 

Political power is, fundamentally, nothing but the organized 
power of classes, or men, or sets of men, to " govern " others ; 
that is, to dictate to them what they shall do and what they 
must not do. In our Commonwealth, where there will be no 
•' classes " at all, there will be no set, of men who can by '' sov- 
eign authority" dictate to the rest of the Nation, but every 
citizen will actually perform his appropriate share of the ad- 
ministration. 

Again, the terms " State " and " Society " are now apart in 
speech^ because they are m fact apart. But under the New so- 
cial System they will, as we have seen, come to cover each 
other, become synonymous. Between the economic and So- 
cial organization, and the ^'political" organization of the Fu- 
ture State there will not be a particle of distinction. 

Before we proceed to outline the Administration of the Fu- 
ture we wish to repeat the warning that we gave, when the 
economic features of the New Order were under discussion : 
Socialists lay no claim tohe'"'' architects" hence do not insist upon 
details from us! Speculations here in detail would be liable to 
be far more Utopian than those in economic matters, since, as 
we have seen, the administrative features of a given society are 
but the ulterior results of its economic relations. We can, 
however, pretty safely predict that the following features will 
take the place of those we have discarded. 

Appointments will he made from below. This is the second re- 
spect in which our Post Office DeiDartment is not a socialist 
institution — the other respect, as will be remembered, was the 
discrepancy in salaries. At present the Postmaster-General 
or President aj)points the postmasters, and they again their 
subordinates and the letter-carriers. Under Socialism it will 



172 ADMINISTRATION 

certainly be the reverse. There the letter-carriers will elect 
their immediate superiors; these, we will say, the postmasters 
and these in their turn the Postmaster General. Why should 
it not be so ? 

Are not the letter-carriers just as competent to elect their 
superintendents as the Chief in Washington is to appoint the 
postmaster of Boston? The qualifications of an elector are 
evidently these : a knowledge of the capacity of the candidate 
for a given office and a knowledge of what the duties of that 
office are (quite a different tiling from a knowledge of how to 
perform those duties.) Who possesses these qualifications in 
a greater degree than those who are to be his immediate sub- 
ordinates, and who. perhaps, have worked with the candidate 
throughout a series of years? 

Understand! by appointment from below, we do not mean, 
that/, i. the whole people of a city shall elect their postmaster. 
Such a principle is altogether too much in vogue now. We 
maintain exactly the reverse of it : that a man is not qualified 
to vote for a candidate whose qualifications he is ignorant of, 
for an office the duties of which he is not acquainted with. 
It will be admitted that it is quite a different proposition, that 
the workers in a factory should elect their Foreman, teachers 
their Superintendent &c. This is the only method by which 
harmonious loyal cooperation of subordinates with superiors 
can be secured. ISTo one ought to be a superior who has not 
the good will of those he has to direct. 

Understand, also, that Appointment from below does not 
necessarily imply Bemoval from below. 

Think but a moment over it, and notice the important and 
beneficent results that will flow from such a system. 

We said that every citizen would be actually a part of the 
Administration. This that he will have a voice in the election 
of his immediate superior, will be one way, and perhaps the 
most important way, of being such part. That kind of Suf- 
frage will he iDorth something. We have now cut what we call 
'^ political power" into such little bits, that a single man's 
share of it is hardly thought worth having at all. But his 
vote will count for something in a shop when a foreman is to 



or ATFAIRS. 173 

be elected ; will indeed, confer such a dignity on him, that he 
will be a diflerent man from the servile •• hand" of our pres- 
ent irresponsible autocrats. 

Again, this system will furnish one of the securities for good 
administration. It is not likely that under it there will any 
longer be any "• government by amateurs." Then the greatest 
ability will in every sphere of activity in all likelihood gravi- 
tate towards all positions of influence, (just as we find it to be 
the case in the English Trades-societies according to tlie most 
competent authority) and the subordinates will he aware of the 
fact. 

Instead of any term of office, long or short, we shall have a 
tenure during Good Behavior. 

The directors of affairs will hold their offices as long as the 
people's interests are best served by having them hold them, 
but not one moment beyond. They all, from Foreman up to the 
Chiefs, will have to do good work, and will not stay in their 
office one week, nay, not one day, if they fail in their duties, 
ay, if they fail to give satisfaction. Every such officer will be 
held responsible, not for good intentions, but for accomplished 
results. Of all causes for removal the best of all will be one, 
unrecognized now, the misdemeanor of Failure. "■ Good Be- 
havior" will mean first of all : Efficiency. And as a very im- 
portant part of the work of every officer will consist in over- 
seeing others, he will be held responsible, if the work done 
by those under him is not done well. He will be driven to en- 
force the utmost efficiency from every one of his subordinates. 
His holding his place will depend on what they do, as much 
as on what he himself does. 

This personal responsiblity and instant dismissal for failure 
will permeate the whole service from top to bottom. This is 
what the Cooperative (Commonwealth will need, for as Siick- 
ney well remarks : '' If his future advancement (and we add : 
the tenure of a functionary) depends on a king he will serve 
the king; if on party he will serve party; if only on doing 
his work well, he will do his work well. It is no miracle, it 
is nothing but a law of human nature." Which remark we 



174 ADMINISTRATION 

commend to our Utopian Civil-Service-Reforraers who wish, 
and no doubt sincerely, to reform the service in the same di- 
rection as Socialists do, but want to retain Party-Government. 

But, on the other hand, when a good man has got into the 
proper place and performs his work well, he will go on and 
do it as long as he has a mind to stay. We have tried that 
plan to some extent and we have had some good results from 
it. Everybody will admit, that our judicial tenure of office 
has had a great deal to do with the fact, that our judiciary has 
been so pm"e and uncorrupted as has been the case — while the 
greatest blot on its fair fame (the Electoral Commission busi- 
ness of 1877) can be just as directly traced to the evil influ- 
ences of Farty. The principal objection we have to our Judic- 
ial Tenure is that '' Good Behavior" means nothing but '' re- 
maining respectable.'''' In a Socialist Administration a judge 
would not remain one day in office when he was notoriously 
unfit to perform his duties, as was for years the case with 
members of our National Supreme Court. Again, whatever 
opinion is entertained of the expediency of West Points and 
our army. Socialists will cheerfully admit the high moral tone 
of the Army Service — until lately, atany rate— compared with 
our Civil Service, which is c'.irectly traceable to the secure ten- 
ure of office of the former. 

The Directors of Affairs, furthermore, will be trusted with 
all the power necessary to perform their work well. They 
will not be hampered by any petty technicahties. The peo- 
ple will abstain from meddling with details, as long as the re- 
sults are satisfactory. That is the sensible practical method 
which workingmen always adopt whenever they associate to 
accomplish anything, as also is exemplified in the English 
Trades-Unions. Workingmen know, that the direction of af- 
fairs ought to be a function of the competent, as much as the 
planning of a suspension bridge is, and not a play for num- 
bers. They always, as Frederic Harrison puts it, " put con- 
fidence in tried leaders." 

Some one may here object that when in that way under So- 
cialism all the high talent of the country is concentrated in 



or AFFAIRS. 175 

the Administration, it will be exactly the " Bureaucracy " we 
find in Prussia, Kussia and China. 

It would indeed be a bureaucracy, if it were proposed that 
our ci\il officers under our present system should have a life- 
tenure of their places. But it will be quite a different thing, 
when, as in the Cooperative Commonwealth every citizen has 
a life-tenure soweio/iere. and when "good behavior" means 
something else than not to commit an infamous crime. Is a 
i)hysician a bureaucrat? When a patient has found a good 
physician he keeps him and follows his directions, and yet we 
should say, that that patient's power over this physician is 
not nugatory, though he does not direct what medicines shall 
be administered. 

Such a tenure during " Good Behavior," as we have defined 
it, will be another security for good administration. When- 
ever the directors of affairs have such power as is their due, 
when they are secure in their positions and permitted to do 
the best they know how, we can be sure to find merit in the 
commanding positions, for it will ever remain true that the 
direction of affairs has wonderful charms for all men who have 
any gifts, fitting them for it. 

Instead of representation we sJiall have^ what is technically 
called, the referendum. 

By the '• referendum " is meant the submitting all bills of a 
general nature to the people they are intended to affect, before 
they have the validity of laws, as already exemplified for some 
years past by Switzerland to some extent, both in national and 
cantonal affairs. 

We claim, that this feature represents exactly the function 
which the people are fitted to perform and which it is every 
way expedient they should perform. 

They are peculiarly fitted to perform this function of rati- 
fying, or rather, of vetoing measures (with which our Presi- 
dent and governors are at present and — as we contended in 
the previous chapter — improperly entrusted) while they are 
peculiarly unfitted for the function with whicli they are now 
constitutionally invested : that of selecting men of whose qual- 



176 ADMINISTRATION 

ifications they can know nothing for offices of the duties of 
which they are ignorant. 

The people should leave the framing of laws to the wisest 
and most competent. But because I should not attempt to 
make my own shoes, since I am no shoemaker, that is no reason 
why I should not decline to buy a certain pair of shoes which 
the shoemaker has made. I need not be a shoemaker to know, 
whether the shoes pinch me or not. Exactly so with laws 
and institutions. The peojDle are amply qualified to say that 
they do not want certain laws. 

John 8. Mill says in regard to representative bodies, that 
their proper office is " not to make law but to see them made 
by the right persons, and to give or withhold its ratification 
of them." "Good sense" and ''good intentions," the only 
requisites for that function, we must assume in the body of 
citizens or we must, indeed, despair of the Nation. 

By the way, it was Kobespierre — for whom, however, neither 
the writer of this nor Socialists generally have any great ad- 
miration — who first proposed the referendum^ by advising the 
king to say : "My people, here are the laws I have made for 
you ; will you accept them? " 

The referendum is expedient, because the stability and good- 
ness of all laws and institutions depend on their suitableness. 
We have compared political institutions to coats that may or 
may not fit the backs. The referendum will insure, that " the 
coat will fit the back," in other words, that the measures adopt- 
ed are commensurate with the development of the people. 
If the coat does not fit, if a given measure does not suit them, 
they will simply reject it. 

It is expedient, because it and it alone will arouse and keep 
alive in the people the interest in public afiiiirs. 

It is a notorious fact that the voters in our country and in 
all countries are absolutely indifl"erent to — we may say truth- 
fully, that they look with a sort of contempt on — the electoral 
franchise ; and the humbug of representation that we adverted 
to in the preceding chapter is a sufficiently good reason. Vo- 
ters will naturally remain indifferent, as long as a political cam- 
paign means but a strife for candidates. Whenever they do 



OF AFFAIRS. 177 

vote, they will continue to do so from the Scarae reasons which 
solely influence them now, to-wit : habit, or the desire to ad- 
vance a friend or a " hero," or the chance of getttin^ a drink. 

But when the voters have measures before them, — not merely 
general, and therefore vague, constitutional provisions, but 
direct^ special measures — to discuss and then to ratify or reject, 
it may fairly be expected, that they will take a considerable 
and Increasing Interest in public affairs. Then, also, they will 
very likely come more and more to appreciate the fact, that 
Suffrage is not a right at all — if it were, votes would, indeed, 
be things to be sold or given away, at pleasure — but a public 
trust. 

The referendum is expedient, because bills will then be intel- 
ligently discussed before they become laws. We shall then 
no more witness the indecency, that important laws the pro- 
visions of which even often are unknown to the legislators 
are enacted in the hurry of the last night of a session, under 
the spur of the party whip. Then we shall no longer see huge 
volumes of trash issuing yearly from legislative halls, but shall 
have few, and none but necessary, laws. 

'' But this is all nonsense to propose to get along without 
representatives. The people of a large country, like that of 
ours, cannot possibly pass upon all laws." 

Yes, we know, that once upon a time somebody made a re- 
mark of that kind, and that it has been echoed and re-echoed 
ever since. Humanity does really resemble a flock of sheep 
which are known to be so conscientious, that if you hold a 
stick before the wether so that he is forced to vault in his pas- 
sage, the whole flock will do the like when the stick is with- 
drawn. 

Why cannot the people, even of so populous and extensive 
a country as ours, vote upon all laws? Do not, as a matter 
of fact, our people vote to reject or accept the constitutions of 
their several states? Do they not practically vote for the Pres- 
ident? What reason in the world is there, why they cannot 
just as well vote upon a law as upon a constitution or upon 
men? 

And what reason is there for the people to have ''represen- 



178 ADMINISTRATION 

tatives " at all? True, they needs must have men to direct af- 
fairs and to do certain work for tliem. These men are their 
arjents for certain purposes, but in no sense their representatives. 
It is their lictitions '' representative" character which permits 
Pennsylvania legislators to drag along the scandalous extra 
session and prevents their being kicked out of their seats as 
they ought to be. It is this '" representative " character that 
is the father of all parliamentary nonsense, blundering work 
and the "practical politics" in which Garfield was such an 
adept, and of which he fell such a signal victim. 

Under the Socialist Begime the Administi-ators will form a 
worJdng Body, not a talJcing Body. The people in their organ- 
ic capacity will watch, stimulate and control them but not 
meddle with details. Their agents will have been put into the 
positions they occupj'', becanse they know better than anybody 
else how to contrive the means and execute the measures de- 
manded. They will administer the Nation's affairs as a pilot 
directs and handles a ship, but tlie direction of the Ship of 
State will be indicated by Public Opinion. 

But the pertinacious curiosity of critics will, undoubtedly, 
not be satisfied, before they have a sketch of such a Socialist 
administration before them for examination. 

Well, anybody can construct such an administration in his 
imagination as well as we can, if he only will keep steadily 
before him these three requirements : firsts that all appoint- 
ments be made from below ; next, tlnit the directors stay in 
office as long as they give satisfaction and not one moment 
beyond ; and, lastly^ that all laws and regulations of a general 
nature must first be ratified by those immediately interested. 
We have no better means of guessing how those who come 
after us will construct their administrative machinery in de- 
tail than anybody else ; and modern Socialists are not fond of 
laying down rules for the guidance of coming generations. 

In order, however, to show that an administration without 
President, without national or local " debating societies " of 
any kind is really possible, we shall draw such a one in out- 
line; but please bear in mind that Socialism nnistiiotbe juade 



or ATFAIRS. 1 79 

responsible for this fancy-sketch of ours. We do this the 
more wilUngly, because, as our thoughtful readers must have 
observed, there is one highly inipt)rtant provision that we for 
good reasons have left entirely unnoticed. 

Suppose, then, every distinct branch of industry, of agri- 
culture, and. also teachers, physicians etc. to form, each trade 
and profession by itself, a distinct body, a Trades-Union (we 
simply use the term, because it is convenient) a guild, a cor- 
poration managing its internal aflfau'S itself, but subject to 
collective control. 

Suppose, further, that/, i. the '' heelers" among the opera- 
tives in a shoe-factory in Lynn come together and elect their 
Foreman and that the ' tappers,' (he ' solers,' the ' finishers,' 
and whatever else the various operators may be called, do 
likewise. Suppose that these Foremen assemble and elect a 
Superintendent of the factory, and that the Superintendents 
of all the shoe-factories in Lynn, in their turn, elect a— let us call 
him — District-Superintendent. Again, we shall suppose these 
District-Superintendents of the whole boot and shoe industry to 
assemble themselves somewhere from all parts of the country 
and elect a JBureau-Chief, and he with other Bureau-Chiefs of 
related industries, say, the tanning industry, to elect a Chief 
of Department. 

In the same manner we shall suppose, that we have got a 
Chief for every group of related mechanical and agricultural 
and mining pursuits, a Chief for the teachers, another for the 
physicians, another for the judges — see next chapter — further, 
one or more Chiefs for transportation, one or more for com- 
merce — in fact, suppose, that there is not a social function 
"whatever that does not converge in some way in such Chief 
of Department. 

However, we do not want too many of those Chiefs, for we 
mean to make a worldng Body, not a talking Body, out of 
them. We mean that these Chiefs of Department shall form 
The National Board of Administrators^ whose function it shall 
be to supendse the whole social activity of the country. Each 
Chief will supervise the internal aJBTairs of his own department. 



180 ADMINISTRATION 

and the whole Board control all those matters in which the 
General Public is interested. 

But just as all inferior officers this ]N"ational Board will be 
nothing but a body of administrators ; they will be merely 
trusted agents to do a particular work ; they will be in no sense 
"governors" or "rulers;" or if anybody should choose to 
call their supervision and control " government," it will, at all 
events, rather be a government over things than over men. For 
they will decree no laws. 

If a general law is thought expedient, one that will affect 
the people at large or those of any one department, then we 
suppose this National Board simply to agree on the general 
features of the measure, and thereupon entrust the drafting 
of the proper bill either to the Chief whose department it prin- 
cipally concerns, or, what might be the usual course, to the 
Chief of the Judges. When this draft has been discussed and 
adopted, the Board will submit it to the people either of the 
whole country or of the department, as may be, for their rat- 
ification. The National Board is thus no lawmaker, therefore 
no "government" but an executive body strictly. 

But how shall we exact that rssponsihility on which we laid so 
much stress ; which we considered the very keystone of De- 
mocracy? That important question we have hitherto not 
touched upon at all, for the simple reason that there is abso- 
lutely nothing in the tendency of things that can guide us to 
any solution. The constantly reiterated demands of the work- 
ing-classes and their mode of procedure in their own affairs 
teach us what course they will pursue as to Appointmeuts, 
Tenure of Office and the Passage of Laws but nothing definite 
about Hemovals. And yet this point is second to none in im- 
portance ; How shall we prevent these Foremen, Superintend- 
ents and especially the Chiefs of Departments from being at 
any time the mastei^s of the situation? 

Well, the writer of this can say how it may be accomplished, 
but does not at all pretend to say, how it loill be done. 

Experience, has shown, that responsibility to many is, in 
ordinary cases, no responsibility at all. We therefore hold, 
tiitit if tliese directing functionaries are to be made responsi- 



OF AFFAIRS. 181 

ble for their work, they must he made responsible to some one 
person. But who is the proper one person? 

We noticed, that every directing officer should be responsi- 
ble not alone for the work he himself does, but also for the 
work of his subordinates. He must see to it, that they do their 
work well. Is not this a sufficiently good reason why evei-y 
du'ecting official should be given the right instantly to dismiss 
any one of his subordinates for cause assigned; inefficiency 
being, as already stated, the very best of causes. When then 
a foreman was inefficient, he would be removed instantly, 
without trial, by his superintendent; he again might be re- 
moved by his bureau-chief— 79er^aj9s /or abuse of power in re- 
moving the foreman ; — this bureau-chief again by his depart- 
ment-chief. 

But the latter official, to whom shall he be responsible ? Some 
would say, to the whole Body of Administrators. And yet 
the very obvious objection might be raised to such an arrange- 
ment, that it would really be no responsibility, for are not these 
administrators all equals, and interested in upholding each 
other in power? 

Suppose we make every Department Chief liable to removal 
by the whole body of his subordinates. 

That is to say, suppose, that, whenever the workers of a 
given department, inclusive of Foremen, Superintendents and 
other officials, become dissatisfied with thoir Chief, they all 
meet in their different localities and vote on the dismissal of 
that Chief, and that he be considered removed from office the 
moment the collective judgment of the whole department is 
known, if that judgment be adverse to him. Then the Bureau- 
Chiefs immediately proceed to elect another Chief of Depart- 
ment who can be removed in like manner, if he should not 
suit the workers. 

That feature, then, of the plan we have sketched which 
must be charged to the personal bias of the writer of this is, 
that, while the subordinates elect, the superiors dismiss. This 
feature we hold will divide power botween skill and numbers 
in ihe proper proportion. We deem it a pretty good applica- 
tion of the famous proposition of Harrington in his " Oceana " 



182 ADMINISTRATION 

who wanted power divided on the principle which governs two 
children in fairly dividing a cake : that the one halves the cake, 
wliile the other chooses its portion. This feature will create 
perfect harmony between responsibility on one hand and sub- 
ordination on the other. The Foremen elect their Superintend- 
ent, but the moment he is elected, he is independent of them ; 
how else could he be responsible for himself and for them to 
his superior? But by making the Chief of all In each de- 
partment responsible to all his subordinates, we have vindi- 
cated the ultimate rule of that impersonal Power: Public 
Opinion. 

One point yet remains unnoticed. Can the foreman also dis- 
miss any of his workers for inefRciency or other cause? It 
will easily be seen, that this is a quite different matter from 
the dismissal of a directing official. When the latter is re- 
moved, he is simply put back among the rank and file, until 
elevated by a new election. He has no right to his office. 
But whereto could a worker be removed? He must be em- 
ployed somewhere. Of course, there must be some kind of 
remedy by which Society could protect itself against any re- 
bellious or negligent worker. For such cases a trial by his 
comrades might be provided, the issue of which might be 
removal to a lower grade or some sort of compulsion. 

Now, is this not Democracy ? 

It is certainly Administration ?)y ^^e Peoj5?e. Every citizen 
will actually help in administering affairs by having some- 
thing considerable to say about who is to be his immediate su- 
perior. This feature is really the greatest of all. by far; it 
provides a kind of a primary election which is not child's play. 
And that it will work well in practice the Catholic church 
may teach us : cardinals elect the pope ; priests nominate their 
bishops and monks their abbots. That church, by-the-way, — 
the most ingenious of human contrivances— can teach us many 
a lesson and we are fools if we do not profit by them. 

Such a system as that we have sketched insures Equality. 
It will not make all equally wise in all matters, but it will des- 
troy all irresponsible power, abolish every trace of dependence 
on individuals. All authority will be a public trust ; whenever 



OF AFFAIRS. 183 

there is Subordination on the one hand, there is on the other 
Responsibility. Instead of a slavish subjection to anybody's 
autocratic will, there will be loyal submission by all to the 
common impersonal superior. That is a difference which the 
penitent operators of the Western Union who lately signed 
certain so-called contracts (!) ought to be able to appreciate. 
It by no means implies negation of all impulse, all initiative 
from those who are the wiser, for equality is not likeness-^ it 
rather is synonymous with variety^ just as the same soil in free- 
dom produces all kinds of trees. 

Such a system, finally, establishes the best security for the 
best administration':, it will furnish us those ''real rulers" for 
whom Carlyle yearned. Here again we cfin appeal to the ex- 
perience of the Catholic church, which knows how so to possess 
herself of her priests, that they are as wise, acute and pushing 
for her as the most consummate man of the world is for his own 
interests. 

But Public Opinion — the organic opinion of the people, not 
what they separately think, — the Public Conscience, will rule 
these "real rulers." 

In three ways this impersonal Power will assert itself: by 
the referendum^ hy giving or refusing those highest in authori- 
ty a vote of confidence, and last, though not least, by and 
through the public journals. 

Our journals have really a far more representative character 
than Congress or our legislatures, and, further, they are '' rep- 
resentatives" in constant session. True, they do not repre- 
sent the people, for they represent in no sense the working- 
classes— these are as yet to all intents and purposes perfectly 
dumb — but they represent very well our comfortable classes, 
our ruling classes, the ''Messrs. six per cent." This will all 
be changed in the Cooperative Commonwealth. 

Some will here remark : " If newspapers are, also, to be 
collective property, as we suppose they are, and published 
only by public authority, we do not see much chance for any 
opinion, aside from " official" opinion, to assert itself." 

Let us observe that our present journals have three functions : 

First, they are ?iei«spapers. To gather and give the news is 



184 ADMINISTRATION 

their principal object. And tliat is the main reason why they 
represent the well-to-do classes, exclusively, for it takes lots 
of money to get the news. 

Next, they are public criers. They devote, in fact, most of 
their columns to pushing and puffing all sorts of private en- 
terprises. 

Lastly, there is a little space left for "■ editorials," in which 
garrulous writers, in the pay of the "- Messrs. six per cent,'- 
do the thinking for their employers; since they represent 
mediocrity, it goes without saying, that it is very ordinary 
thoughts they furnish, none very exciting — narcotic, rather. 

In the Comming Commonwealth the first two functions will 
be separated from the one last mentioned. 

There will probably in every community be published an 
official journal which will contain all announcements of a pub- 
lic nature and all the news, gathered in the most efficient man- 
ner by the aid of the national telegraph service, but no com- 
ments. 

But we are assured that besides these there will also be pub- 
lished many private journals, true cliampions of principles 
and measures. True, the printing press will be a collective 
institution — but it will be open to every one. 

Anyone — whatever unpopular opinions he may entertain, 
however hostile to the administrators he may be, — will be en- 
titled to have anything decent printed, provided he is ready 
to pay for the work done, or to guarantee by himself or 
friends that the cost will be defrayed. Of course, a line must 
be drawn somewhere, as has at all times and in all countries 
been done. Public Opinion has always insisted upon, that 
there is something it will not tolerate — and so it probably will 
always be and so it ought to be. 

Some one has happily characterized Carlyle as the man who 
"brought us out of the Egypt of shams into the desert and — 
left us there." Carlyle did a splendid work in bringing us out 
of the shams of representative parliamentarism, but he was 
sadly mistaken when he wanted us to go back to the forms of 



OF AFFAIRS. 185 

the Middle Ages. The " Eternal Silences " "have decreed De- 
mocracy, which in the fullness of time will transform the par- 
ty-ridden American people into a self-assertive people, trans- 
form the goose into an eagle. 



CHAPTER IX. 

ADMimSTRATION of JUSTICE 
IN THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 



" Our judicial system : a technical one, invented for the cre- 
ation of costs." — Bomilly. 

" Distinguished pleaders defeat justice while establishing 
points of law." — Frazefs Mag. Nov, 79. 

u There never was such an infernal cauldron as that Chan- 
cery on the face of the earth ! Nothing but a mine below it 
on a busy day in term time, with all its records, rules, and prece- 
dents collected in it, and every functionary belonging f o it also, 
high and low, upward and downward, from its son the Ac- 
countant-General to its father the Devil, and the whole blown 
to atoms with ten thousand hundred weight of gunpowder 
would reform it in the least! " — Charles Dickens. 

It is evident that in the Cooperative Commonwealth there 
will be far less litigation than now. Everyone familiar with 
the business of our Courts knows, that cases arising from con- 
tract contribute by far the largest part of that business. If 
these were extirpated; if our Courts had to deal, only, with 
cases of torts and criminal cases, the great majority of our 
high-prized lawyers, now crowded with " business," would 
have to seek pastures new. Now, such cases will in the new 
Commonwealth necessarily be, if not entirely done away with, 
immensly reduced, at all events, on account of its taking all 
enterprises of any social account into its own hands. As to 



OF JUSTICE. 187 

criminal cases we may be pretty sure that they will diminish 
materially. 

Probably nearly all the cases brought before the national 
courts for determination will be those arising between the 
Trades-Unions, Guilds, Corporations, or whatever they will be 
called, and their members, or between the Guilds themselvess, 
or, finally, between them and the Departments. 

Further, when discussing the referendum we remarked, that 
its introduction would naturally tend to reduce considerably 
the bulk of onr statute-law and to prevent frequent changes 
in the same. The immense'reduction in the subject matter of leg- 
islation, mentioned in the preceding paragraph, and, more than 
all, the \^dping out of all State-lines and State-jurisdictions, 
will contribute materially to the same end. We are now in mat- 
ters of legislation pretty much in the condition France was in 
before her Great Revolution. Her laws, it was said, were 
changed as often as were her post-horses ; we may be said to 
change laws as often as we do railroad-cars. 

Under the future Social Order we may hope to have a handy, 
compact and yet acciu-ate and comprehensive code of last- 
ing statutes, so that the requirements of law will not needs be 
a mystery to anybody for ever after. 

And yet, though such a change in itself will be of far-reach- 
ing importance, it will constitute but a small fraction of that 
revolution which the two principles of Collective Control 
and Democracy will bring about in our judicial system. For 
that which gives value to all laws is the method of adminis- 
tering them ; and that method will itself he revolutionized. 

In the first place, our present method of administering jus- 
tice is that of Warfare. Our method makes of the profession 
of law the art of gaining a victory; of a Court of Justice 
a battleground; it uses witnesses as soldiers and rules, preced- 
ents and technicalities as weapons and engines of war. Without 
perceiving this you cannot possibly reconcile the profession- 
al code of the lawyer with personal morality. 

Listen to this code : 

If a lawyer wins a case by superior vigilance, he has done 



188 ADMINISTRATION 

just what liis duty requires of him, even if he knows he is on 
the wrong side. 

It is a proper move for a lawyer, adroitly to lead his adver- 
sary away from unassailable legal positions, or manoeuvre him 
out of superiority of evidence. 

A lawyer must steer around, must dodge the law against him. 

A lawyer should see to it, if he may not surprise his adver- 
sary, or C'yen i/iej^<cZ^e, into some action which will render a 
new trial probable should the verdict be against him ; /. i. 
make the judge overrule an objection hy stating a flimsy ground^ 
while he conceals the true one. Indeed, our shining lights of 
the bar do daily act on the comprehensive rule, that they may 
do anything to gain the victory, except suborning witnesses 
and forging precedents. 

This code of the profession becomes perfectly comprehensible 
in the light of the theory, that a law-suit is a campaign of war. 
In fact, it cannot be defended on any other ground than the one 
which allows perfidy and deceit in war. A general must van- 
quish the enemy \>y all means, and in the same way it is made 
the duty of the most conscientious counsel after he is retained, 
to have this thought steadily in his mind : ** How shall 1 
bring the judge and the jury to decide for my client? How 
can I cripple and obstruct my opponent ? How can I make my 
case appear to have the law on its side?" without for a mo- 
ment inquiring into the justice of his case. To this miserable 
theory, that the profession of law is the art of warfare, of 
strategy and manoeuvring, is due, exclusively, the spoliation, 
the evasion, the failure of justice, almost synonymous with 
law. 

Thus it explains why the profession so persistently sticks to 
the cumbrous jury-system and to the unanimity of twelve 
jurors. 

By the way, do you know why there always must be exact- 
ly twelve? Lord Coke, the apostle of the Anglo-Saxon law- 
yer, enlightens you : because there were twelve apostles, and 
twelve tribes of Israel ! ! ! 

Whenever you find a lawyer with a poor case, you can be 
sure that nothing will make him waive his grand constitution- 



OF JUSTICE. 189 

al right to a jury. He has been taught that the lawyer must 
use as allies even the erroneous prejudices, even the ignorance 
of mankind. Then there is the delicious uncertamty about 
the verdict of a petit jury, which exactly chimes in with the 
warfare idea. There is a chance for a verdict in his favor, for 
a disagreement, and, lastly, for a new trial. Hence such rhe- 
torical laudations as this : '' No better tribunal has yet been de- 
vised than a jury of twelve intelligent, honest and fairminded 
men." Any suggestion that three such men, with a majority 
to decide, would do as well, is frowned down by the profes- 
sion. For—that would very inuch diminish the chances. * 

Again, to this theory that it is the duty of the profession to 
fight battles and win victories is due the fact that the decision 
of a case very seldom hinges on a statute law and general 
maxims of equity, but almost always on some precedent, that 
is, some similar case, preserved in one or other of the thou- 
sand American or English '' Reports." 

The citizen who supposes, that the "law" he is governed 
by is the statute-laio of his state is very much in error. The 
statute-law is the most insignificant fraction of our laws. 
The "law" is something no lawyer can learn in a lifetime, 
both on account of the bulk of theEeports (to which in Amer- 
ica alone a hundred volumes are added yearly) and because he 
never can be absolutely certain what is good, and what bad 
law. 

But even if a judge should be told all the decisions on a giv- 
en point that are valid, he has no guide in them at all. There 
stand the decisions in two rows : On one hand those in which 
a question has been decided one way ; on the other those where 
the decision has been the contrary way — length of rows as 
nearly equal as the heart could wish. He takes his choice and 
either way he bows to the name of some "learned "judge, 
some " authority ! " 

The fatal conclusion thus is, that our administration of jus- 
tice depends upon caprice. The profession divines, rather than 



* An article : "Is the Jury System a Failure? " in the Cen- 
tury of 1882 by Albert Stickney, whom our readers know Irom 
a former chapter, is woith perusal. 



190 ADMTNISTEATION 

ascertains tlie law. And all our legislation, in spite of all codes 
and all '• reforms," is by the address of lawyers made to rest 
on precedents. 

Why? 

Because the theory of warfare requires snares rather than 
guides ; it requires as much uncertainty^ connected with as 
much precision as possible. To say that lawyers have no in- 
terests in the uncertainty of the law is to say that glaziers 
have no interest in the breaking of windows. Because pre- 
cedents are their engines of warfare, our lawyers tenaciously 
cling to them and have a horror for broad principles. They 
unwittingly consider that a virtue which furthers the peculiar, 
sinister interests of their class. 

The same theory, also, requires the innumerable technicali- 
ties, rules and forms, that have as little to do with justice as 
English wigs and gowns have. Our constitutions really per- 
petrate a witticism, when they guarantee "• complete justice, 
conformably to the law^s," for these laws silently assume these 
slippery rules and subtilties. To guarantee complete justice 
conformably to rules that thwart justice is lils:e guaranteeing lib- 
erty inside locks and keys and shackles. 

From this warfare-theory follows another great evil — an out- 
rage upon every idea of justice. A war demands money, 
much money. No man, therefore, can commence or defend 
a lawsuit without a replete pocketbook. It is one of the most 
expensive speculations he can venture into, and the longest 
purse is pretty sure to win. 

Our paper-constitutions pompously guarantee "justice free- 
ly and without purchase, completely and without denial, 
promptly and without delay." Instead of that this warfare 
theory gives us the triple-headed monster of Expense Vex- 
ation and Delay. 

And, lastly, this warfare theory has a demoralizing effect on 
the lawj^er. It gives far more credit to him who wins a bad 
case than to him who wins a good one. It compels our legal 
men to be partisans, to be what Jeremy Bentham sneeringly 
called them — " Messrs. Eitherside." There is no radical dif- 
ference between that '' representative of the bar " wlio for a 



OF JUSTICE. 191 

fancy fee is the partisan of one party today, against him per- 
haps tomorrow, an advocate of one theory one moment, its op- 
ponent tlie next moment, and the common pettifogger. The lat- 
ter is simply an irregular guerilla. What do we say of the 
soldier wlio is today in one camp, in another tomorrow? The 
rules which this theory makes obligatory on the lawyer, the 
arts he must practise, if practised in any other position, would 
he deemed dishonorable. 

And the study and practice of the law under this method 
cripples the lawyer intellectually. Take him who has raised 
hifnself to the summit of learning by wooing that '" jealous 
mistress," the law with ''twenty years'' lucubrations," the con- 
dition fixed by authorities. In what has he become '' learned ? " 
In the conceit of centuries and the debris of society. Buckle 
is right : " Learning " serves Ignorance as much as it does 
Progress. 

Take, next, the succesful practitioner. What does he gain 
by "establishing points of law?" — some of which are as un- 
profitable as the medieval puzzle : how many souls can dance 
on the point of a needle. He becomes alert, smart, undoubt- 
edly. But the practice of law has the same effect as the ac- 
tion of the grindstone ; it narrows the mind as well as sharpens 
it. Especially is that the case with practitioners who devote 
themselves to special branches of the law. They get to have 
a positive aversion to enlarged views and care no more for the 
interests of mankind beyond the narrow limit of their pur- 
suit than the man who spends his life in putting on the heads 
of pins. 

And yet the indifference of legal men to the public welfare 
—as long as there are cases to try-by no means keeps them away 
from public affairs. On the contrary, a lawyer takes as naturally 
to politics as a duck to water, simply because politicians and 
lawyers are equally intriguers. The consequence is that their 
vicious maxims, antiquated systems and contracted views are 
carried over into the broad field of governmental affairs, tak- 
ing the place ot enlarged views, suitable to the situation and 
height of the times. Lawyers as a rule make our laws, although 
a superstition prevails, that this is the work of the people ; 



192 ADMINISTRATION 

but it is an absurdity beyond measure, that no executive of- 
ficer, in purely administrative matters, can take a step without 
consulting a cramped, in such afiairs essentially ignorant, l»w 
officer, placed at his elbow. 

In the second place, it is a part of our method that the judges 
make law for the people. 

What are those precedents we mentioned, which make up 
by far the greater part of the law we are governed by, and 
which , in our country alone, are manufactured at the rate of 
a hundred volumes yearly? They are nothing but "judge- 
made law," "• counterfeit law " in the words of Bentham. Of 
such '' law " here one example, only : 

Our national constitution provides, that no state shall pass 
any law, impairing the obligation of contracts. Chief Justice 
Marshall, by our lawyers surnamed '' the Great," took upon 
himself to say — in the celebrated Dartmouth College case — 
that this provision should be so construed as to prohibit the 
people from altering charters and withdrawing privileges^ grant- 
ed by themselves to corporations. And such is the law since 
that '' great " decision was promulgated. 

No, one more instance, for it is too interesting to omit. Do 
you know, why Christianity is a part of the Common Law of 
our country? Because an English judge, Lord Mansfield, mis- 
translating two words of a dictum of somebody in the 15th cen- 
tury, q,^\Iq,(\. ancien scripture (Norman French, meaning: an- 
cient writing) — •'' holy scripture ! ! ! " 

And this extraordinary power of our judges means, that they 
can provide a law for cases after they arise. As Bentham said : 
" They proceed with men as men proceed with dogs. When 
your dog does something you want to break him of, you wait 
till he does it and then you thrash him for it. That is what 
judges do to suitors whom they make reluctant heroes of a 
leading case." They, thus, exercise a power which is express- 
ly forbidden to the legislators. 

But that is not all. 

The people's ''representatives" pass a certain law. The 
people obey it and act under it. Afterwards a judge delivers 



OF JUSTICE. 193 

himself of this piece of wisdom to some poor wretch whom 
he has got within his jurisdiction : "I declare that law to be 
no law at all. You were presumed to know that all the time. 
When you acted under this so-called law, you did so at your 
peril." Is not that to make the minister of the law superior 
to the law itself? Certainly it is. Hear Horatio Seymour in an 
article in the North American Review : " The great distinguish- 
ing feature of our government, where we stand alone among 
the peoples of the earth, is placing the judiciary^ a&oue the ex- 
ecutive and the lawmaking power." 

Yes, and above the people in their organic capacity. The 
fate of the constitution which the people of California lately 
adoi)ted may lead us to doubt, if it is possible for the people 
in their primary capacity to frame an organic law^ that will 
not be so mzsconstrued byjudges as to defeat the very pur- 
poses they sought to accomplish. 

Against lawyers and judges, then, the people are a cipher. 
Let the people signify their will in a way they think cannot 
be misconstrued — the judges come with their dignified coun- 
tenances, saying: '• You, people, do not at all know what you 
will, for you will quite the contrary of what you have said." 
Some people talk of priestcraft and ascribe all sorts of hor- 
rors to it ! The priesthood that is dangerous may not be the 
one thac preaches on Sundays ! but the "■ learned " ones to whom 
on week-days law and reason, justice and the public welfare 
are merely subjects of play or caprice. 

Now we can say for certain that under the Cooperative Com- 
monwealth this method will be radically changed, — our two 
Socialist principles will not permit its continuance. We may 
be certain. 

First, that judges will not he allowed to make counterfeit laws. 

That will be a necessary consequence from the democratic 
principle, that what the people have not sanctioned is not law. 
Every case will be decided on its merits— according to the law 
as the people have sanctioned it, without regard to any precedents 
whatsoever. 

Precedents, then, the dry worthless historical knowledge on 



194 ADMINISTRATION 

whicb our legal men have constructed their sham-science, 
called ''jurisprudence,-' will thus be swept away under their 
feet, as was done in France by the Revolution and tbe Code 
jSTapoleon. That this code has been covered up with new pre- 
cedents, twenty times as voluminous as itself by the lawyers 
having commenced their refinements over again, thus clog- 
ging the wheels of justice as much as before, is due to the sup- 
pression of the principle of democracy. 

/S'eco?zcZ, it will follow, even more necessarily, that judges 
will no longer be permitted to nullify laws^ since in the Coope- 
rative Commonwealth what the people have sanctioned is law. 

This monstrous guardianship of the judiciary over the peo- 
ple, dictating to them and their representatives, as last resort, 
what is law and what lawbreaking, which also Jefferson de- 
nounced as undemocratic, and ot which the British Constitu- 
tion, that we otherwise have tried so faithfully to copy, knows 
nothing, will cease to " distinguish us among the peoples of 
the earth." 

We may be assured. 

Thirds that the whole trihe of lawyers will be abolished and with 
them the whole warfare-theory and all its quibbles will be 
swept away. 

The New Order, with its practical economic organization of all 
public affairs, will have no use whatever for our '' Messrs. Eith- 
erside." Abolish the warfare, and the profession of the law- 
yer is next to useless. ' 

Lawyers are now necessary evils— necessary on account of 
our method of administering justice, just as the old Roman 
lawyers were necessary, because in Rome a suit was a religious 
rite, requiring ceremonies that only could be performed by 
the initiated. So because, and only because, a lawsuit is now 
a warfare and because technicalities and precedents are mys- 
teries to the uninitiated; finally because of the innumerable 
conflicting personal interests, we undoubtedly could not at 
present very well dispense with lawyers. 

But when this multiplicity of interests is done away with 
and the present method of administering justice torn up by 
the roots, then theu^ occupation will be gone. And the Com- 



OF JUSTICE. 195 

ing Commonwealth is not likely to squander the public treas- 
ures on useless functionaries. 

Fourth. To sue for justice loill be absolutely costless. 

That is easily done, as soon as lawyers are abolished. 

'' But if justice be free, all will avail themselves of it and 
there will be no end to litigation." 

Is then an appeal to law worse than a trespass? The New 
Order will not so consider it; it will consider the 'least injury 
to any of its citizens an injury to itself. Give me a license to do 
any person at pleasure the minutest wrong conceivable ; allow 
me to pour a drop of water upon his head against his will ; that per- 
son is my slave. Our Commonwealth willknow what a ^row?icZZess 
suit means : it will know of no such thing as a frivolous one. 
Besides, it is the modern sparing justice that feeds iniquity. 
Be assured, that swift and unbending justice, with the fining 
of malicious or litigious complainants, will check litigation. 

But it is natural, that inquirers should not yet be satisfied. 
They will ask : " What kind of procedure, then, will the Co- 
operative Commonwealth introduce? So far you have only 
been tearing down the present system, except that you have 
promised us one positive achievement, to-wit, a handy, intel- 
ligible volume of laws. What system, now, will take the place 
of the incubus you have relieved us of? " 

"VYe remark here as we did, when the economic administra- 
tion under Socialism was discussed, that Socialists have no 
ready-made plan to lay down for the guidance of those who 
will be called upon to organize the Coming Commonwealth, 
least of all a detailed plan. They must be guided by their own 
judgment, the then condition of affairs and the temper of the 
people. But we grant, that we ought to show, if but in the 
merest outlines, how the New Social Order may get along 
without lawyers tolerably well. Only bear in mind, that So- 
cialism is not responsible for the system we shall suggest. 

It will be observed, that of our present machinery almost 
everything has been thrown overboard except statutes and 
judges. 

We assume, that the New Commonwealth cannot dispense 



196 ADMINISTRATION 

with judges; we do not mean our present Zaio?/er-judges (their 
''services" will certainly be dispensed with,) but men especial- 
ly trained to judicial functions, as others are trained to theirs. 
The notion, which many within the Socialist ranks entertain 
that justice can, and ought to be, dispensed by the "people," 
is one they would be radically cured of, if they could have some 
years' experience in the trial of cases Justice by the "people" 
would be mob-justice. It would be what " lynch " justice is 
now. It would in its best form be an article not superior to 
the scandalous judgments for which country Justices-of-the- 
Peace out West are so famous. 

We can give good reasons for such belief. True, in our 
Commonwealth there will be, as we have seen, no difficulty in 
ascertaining the law ; further, there will be little or no difficulty 
in interpreting the law. But it requires, and will likewise in that 
Commonwealth require, some judgment to apply the law, and 
what is the most important consideration of all, it requires a 
good deal of education and training to ascertain the truth where 
the facts are in dispute, as they are nearly in every case. It 
is impossible to ascertain the truth, without knowing how to 
estimate the force of evidence, and that knowledge cannot be 
acquired, without having a Science of Evidence and having 
studied it as much as any other science needs to be studied and 
having learned the art how properly to apply it. 

Men trained in that science, and trained to be exact lo- 
gicians, will undoubtedly be needed, and they will occupy very 
distinguished positions. 

We apprehend, that in the future Commonwealth our sham 
" science" of jurisprudence, which in its essence is nothing 
but a " science " of precedents, will be supplanted with a true 
science of Evidence, something else than that confused col- 
lection of arbitrary rules, called "rules of evidence" which 
Jeremy Bentham many years ago so sharply and caustically 
criticised. 

Assuming, then, that we in our Commonwealth will have a 
body of trained judges we shall also assume that they will 
form themselves into a Department like other functionaries, 
with their Chief among the Board of Administrators, whose 



OF JUSTICE. 197 

peculiar function it possibly may be to draft all iDroposed laws. 

But we pass over to the particular task we have set ourselves : 
the procedure in case of a lawsuit. 

Just as little Switzerland will furnish us a model of really 
popular democratic administration in the " referendum," so it 
is possible, that little Denmark will furnish us a model of pop- 
ular administration of justice in her socalled'' Courts of Con- 
ciliation," which have been in existence in that country since 
1828 and during- that period have given immense satisfaction, 
so much so, indeed, that similar Courts have to a certain ex- 
tent been adopted by other countries in Europe. The dis- 
tinguisliing feature of those Courts is that no lavjyers are, al- 
lowed there. All suits whatsoever, without regard to the 
amounts involved, must, in the first place, be brought before 
these Courts. The judge takes down the oral complaint of the 
plaintift* and the oral defense of the defendant and renders 
judgment accordingly. If, however, either of the parties are 
dissatisfied with the judgment, the judge refers the case to the 
regular Courts, in which Courts, however, no other evidence 
is allowed to be introduced but that which was laid before the 
judge sitting in the Court of Conciliation. 

A vast amount of litigation is settled yearly by these Courts, 
because it is the duty of the judge to explain the laws gov- 
erning the particular case to the parties, and also, undoubted- 
ly, because lawyers are excluded. 

Our Commonwealth would do very well in following this 
Danish model, and only improve on it in making the judgment 
of such a Court conclusive on the parties. This would fulfill 
the most important requirement, namely, render lawyers super- 
fluous, and taking dow^n the verbal statements of the parties 
would dispense with the useless lying ''pleadings " of our 
present system. 

But the Coming Commonwealth might in another way util- 
ize that model, by ingrafting some of its features on another 
mode of determining suits at law which is undoubtedly be- 
coming more and and more popular. We refer to Arbitration, 
which at present would be far more used than is the case, if 
the tendency to resort to it were not constantly obstructed by 



198 ADMINISTRATION 

our lawyers, who naturally enough consider it an inferior com- 
modity — something like neckbeef. 

Suppose the plahitiff in a given suit were required to select 
one of the Commonwealth's judges, who would take down his 
own statements and those of his witnesses and then notify the 
defendant ot the commencement of such a suit. He on his 
part would select another of the judges, who would proceed 
in a like manner. These two judges would then confer togeth- 
er, giving each other the beneht of their views of the law on 
the basis of the statements taken down, which would be le- 
gal evidence, subject to cross-examination, however, in case of 
discrepancy. If the two could not agree on a decision, they 
would then select a third judge, and the decision of the ma- 
jority would be the judgment. The same proceedings might 
very well obtain in criminal cases, the judge representing the 
State being selected by the judges of the district from among 
themselves. 

If it be objected, that trials then would lose their publicity, 
we answer, first, that arbitrations now are mostly private, and, 
next, that publicity is often more subversive of justice than 
otherwise. Wrongs to wqmen are by publicity often aggra- 
vated rather than remedied. And administration of justice is 
by it not infrequently turned into a mighty abettor of the black- 
mailer. 

We said, that our Commonwealth might improve upon the 
Danish model by making the judgment of the trial-judge con- 
clusive on the parties. We mean that. 

There can be no doubt, that the expense and interminable 
delay of our lawsuits are mainly due to the many appeals. 
This expense and delay are, also, the reason why in most of 
the States we find so many appellate Courts constantly being 
established at the instance of lawyers^ of course, and never 
once an appellate Court abrogated, for do not lawyers want ex- 
pense and delay? 

Whij not dispense entirely loith appeals under the system of ar- 
hitration suggested? 

What is the philosophy of appeals? 

By no means, that the appellate judge is better fitted to render 



OF JUSTICE. 199 

a righteous judgment, for, not being face to face with the par- 
ties and their witnesses, lie evidently is not. 

No, the first reason of appeals is that the trial judge may- 
have somebody io stand in awe of, so to speak. But the judges 
of the future Commonwealth, being freely selected by the par- 
ties, certainly need no one to stand in awe of. 

A second reason of appeals to higher Courts is that the in- 
terpretation of the laws may be uniform. 

That, however, might be accomplished just as efiectually, 
and much more conveniently, by a provision, that the judges 
shall inform their Chief of all cases and their particulars, where 
a disagreement has taken place next, of the cases where they 
have deviated from the strict law in favor of equity and of all 
points arising, not yet provided for by law. 

We say "deviated from the strict law," for the judges should 
have discretion. No law should be inflexible. It would be 
well to re-adopt the old maxim of the Roman law '* Summum- 
jus, summa injuria'''' (''the strict law is often the hight of in- 
justice.") 

The Chief would then approve or disapprove of the judg- 
ment rendered, or of the deviation from the law, resorted to 
— a sort of reprimand or otherwise — and introduce amend- 
ments to the existing laws, if thought proper. But the judg- 
ment below would stand as rendered, and neither the judgments 
nor disapprovals should ever become precedents, or we should 
soon again be in the meshes of the lawyers. Nothing would 
he law that has not been submitted to the people and obtained 
their sanction. 

Under such a procedure there would not be the least ex- 
cuse for our infamous bail system. Infamous, because there 
is hardly a crime so great, but that under that system a friend 
of Vanderbilt or Astor can get out on bail and have the 
inestimable privilege of being at liberty to collect evidence 
in his favor and otherwise prepare for his defence ; and be- 
cause there is, on the other hand, hardly a misdemeanor 
so trivial but that a poor man cannot get out without bail. 
Infamous, because poor innocent witnesses are under that sys- 
tem doomed to spend weeks and months in jail. There will 



200 ADMINISTRATION 

be no excuse for it under our procedure, for all cases can under 
be decided quickly. 

Just as we are the worst party-ridden of all countries, so 
we certainly are the most lawyer-ridden one. And the lawyer- 
class is the most mischievous of all classes, the one that most 
clogs the wheels of progress. When the Supreme Powers is- 
sue their decree, that the Established Order is at an end, then 
withtheilfessrs.sixpercen^ must go their retainers, the Messrs. 
Eitherside and lawyer-judges. It is even moreimportant to insist 
upon their taking back seats here, where they claim to be the peo- 
ple's guardians, than in England, where they have never ven- 
tured to deny the nation the right to change its institutions at 
its pleasure. 

On the other hand, the very principle of Democracy demands 
competent and qualified judges , the more so as the very highest 
of the social activities is to see justice done. We may also 
rest assured, that the Guilds and Departments of the New Com- 
monwealth will insist on trained functionaries to whom to sub- 
mit their differences for arbitration. When legal training is 
freed from legal cobw ebs, then we shall have 
natural procedure instead of technical procedure. 



CHAPTER X. 



WOMAN m THE COOPEKATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 



" The only school of genuine moral sentiment is society 
between Equals."— JbAw"/S'. Mill. 

"■ Why is she constituted a woman at all? — Merely that she 
may become a sort of second-rate man "? '' — " Biology and Wom- 
an's Bights'''' Quarterly Journal of Science., Nov. 1878. 

"■Work is withheld from woman in theory, only to be more 
harshly and clumsily inflicted in practice." — Value of Life. 

The Position of Woman — of that half of humanity out of 
whose wombs the coming generations issue— has generally 
been taken as the measure of a people's advancement. 

Yet, woman has hitherto alwa5^s been a stepchild, is even 
so now, and in our country, in spite of our boasted " chivalry." 
If the man of toil is to be pitied, much, more, indeed, is the 
toiling woman ; if a husband suffers from an unhappy mar- 
riage, much more a wife ; and the distance between the great- 
est man and the lowest slave has always been far less than be- 
tween the high-placed lady and the woman of the street. If 
the Cooperative Commonwealth would not be likely to affect 
a vast improvement in the lot of woman, it would not be worth 
hoping for. 

We have good grounds for expecting that she will under the 
coming order of things be raised as far above her present 



202 WOMAN. 

position as the woman of the Middle Ages was elevated above 
her sister of Ancient Greece or Rome. 

Yet, bear in mind that Socialism, in its essence, has to do 
with economic, relations. There is no Socialist Marriage or 
Family Life; we may add, there is no Socialist Education or 
morals, but neither is there any Socialist Politics or Justice. 
iN'evertheless, Socialists will, as we saw, revolutionize the Ad- 
ministration of Affairs and of Justice. This will be done by 
a direct effort: by discarding the present machinery and 
contrive other instruments, suitable to collectivt; control 
of all national affairs. But Socialism will, also, have 
many mJiVec^eff'ects of vast consequence. Production and dis- 
ti'ibution of wealth being the roots of Society, they determine the 
soundness of its trunk and the quality of its flowers and fruit. 
Hence it comes that Socialism, by refashioning economic rela- 
tions, will regenerate Society throughout all its activitities,'and, 
more particularly, will have, most marked eff'ect on Woman^ on 
Education and on Morals. 

While, however, the influence of Social Cooperation in the 
other two respects will be a manifold one, as we shall after- 
wards see. Woman will be affected in a peculiarly simple, 
though not the less effective, manner. The Coming Common- 
wealth will place her on an equal footing with man, economi- 
cally^ that is all. 

But here it is even more important than elsewhere to settle 
what we are to understand by "economic Equality." We 
cannot do this better than by comparing the Socialist view with 
the demands of that persistent class of persons, known as 
*•' women's rights" champions, of whom John S. Mill was a 
representative. 

These latter demand that the avenues to all employments 
be opened as freely to women as they are to men — in other 
words, they agitate for /ree competition between the sexes. 

Well, we should say that the door to most industrial employ- 
ments has for a long time been open to women of the working 
classes. According to the U. S. Census of 1880 there were 
632.000 women engrasred in manufacturing:, me(?hanical and 



WOMAN. 203 

mining industries, one-sixth of the whole working force. In 
some industries the proportion is far greater, notably in the 
cotton mills, where there are considerably more women than 
men employed. 

Have these women's-rights agitators ever contemplated the 
result? Which, under our present industrial system, simply 
is, that competition is rendered yet more savage ; that wages 
sink to a lower and lower level ; that a whole family, on an aver- 
age, comes to earn no more than the head of the family used to 
earn by himself. 

Of these 632,000 females many thousand were married wom- 
en and mothers of cliildren. What kind of family life do 
theTf lead? What kind of training do those children get? Ought 
we to hanker after more competition? 

Again, of the force that used to be employed in the Census 
Bureau in Washington to work out the results of the last cen- 
sus the great majority were women. It is a fact, notorious 
to those in a position to know, that these women performed 
their work in a very slovenly manner, evincing next to no in- 
terest in what they were set to do. Would, on the other hand, 
not that kind of work have afforded an excellent training school 
for aspiring young men, in every way far better fitted to 
perform it? 

Now, we say that the worst that can befall both sexes is for 
woman to compete with man in man's work. We contend, with 
Mill, foY equality, but, against Mill, that woman should not be- 
come a second-rate man. That is to say, we again urge the vital 
distinction, which is constantly overlooked, between being 
equal and being alike. 

Woman is different from man in intellect, different from him 
in temperament, different from him in muscles. There is a 
peculiarity of construction in the bones of the pelvis and chest 
which forbids her to be as much on her feet as man. We may, 
further, suggest certain notorious, .physiological facts that de- 
mand, in contrast to man, that woman shall have a periodic 
rest of, say, three days every four weeks. 

In other words, instead of free competition between the 
sexes, we contend for special vocations for the s^xes. 



204 WOMAN. 

That, of course, is not to be thought of under the present 
system. The proportion of women to men in shops, mines 
and factories will undoubtedly continue to increase. In dis- 
regard of physiological facts manufacturers will go on re- 
quiring their female employees to be on their feet from morn- 
ing till night, and retail-dealers will stick to the rule against 
sitting down. As a matter of sentiment they may think Plato's 
proposition to mix the sexes in all things preposterous, but 
the sijstem demands it. It is just the same thing in regard to 
wages. Sentimental people deplore the fact that women are 
paid less than men for the same work. There is no help for 
It under our system : the law of loages demands it. 

Quite otherwise in the Cooperative Commonwealth. Tliere 
woman will become a functionary, she will have suitable em- 
ployment given her, and be rewarded according to results, 
just the same as man. 

Suitable employment, mark you ! Woman will there not 
take the place of man. The sexes will there keep pace vjith 
each othei\ but — m accordance with the teaching of physiology 
— walk in different pathways. That will simply mean that the 
principle which is the basis of our civilization, to wit : Division 
of Labor will be extended so as to embrace both sexes. If 
that principle is good for man, why not for man and woman? 
Indeed, we shall find that this extension of Division of Labor 
will furnish the desideratum of the Coming Commonwealth : 
competent workers in every field of labor. Woman will surely 
not be dragging behind, for we must remember that whatever 
of greatness woman hitherto has accomplished she has 
achieved in violation of the conventional code, but Nature with 
equal laws always tends to diversity. 

'' Will there be work enough for all women who choose to 
engage in public activities ? " you may ask. 

Why ! even now, in this crude civilization of ours, there is 
an abundance of work which woman only ought to do. Why 
should not our women insist on having female physicians (we 
do not mean surgeons) to attend them? Is that calling more 
un-womanly than nursing? The Woman's Hospitals in Phil- 
adelphia and other places whoso medical staffs and students 



woaiAN. 205 

are women are most excellent institutions, and mark the com- 
ing change. 

And imagine once the innumerable humane institutions of 
the Cooperative Commonwealth ! They will afford woman a 
thousand opportunities for the exercise of her peculiar natural 
gifts — we need only instance the Kindergartens, spread over 
the whole country, of which we shall have more to say in the 
next chapter. 

11 ow will this affect woman? Just as it will man.^ 

As his becoming a public functionary will destroj?- the ac- 
cursed dependence on the irresponsible will of some individ- 
ual for a living which now obtains ; as it will make him a /ree- 
man^ so it will make her a/z-ee-iooiwa?*. Woman now is de- 
pendent on some man for a living : on father or brother or hus- 
band or employer — that is why men arrogate to themselves to 
say what is woman's sphere. Destroy that dependence — we 
do not say make her i/zdependent, for "independence" is not 
a Socialist word at all ; all \vill be dependent on the Common- 
wealth and 2nier-dependent — give her tho. power of earning her 
QMvn\i\mg at pleasure^ and ^^e economic equality of woman is 
achieved. 

But, undoubtedly, the idea that all women, even "ladies," 
might come to earn their own living will shock many a " chiv- 
alrous " gentleman in these hypocritic times. What would 
life be to them without " delicate and spiritual " women to 
whom to pay homage ! 

Well, the consideration that the equality which we advo- 
cate will hardly give us any female sailor or blacksmith ought 
to console them somewhat. But we admit that they have some 
reason to be horrified. 

For these same persons generally fancy, that it is their ap- 
preciation that gives value to woman — a view, not so very dif- 
ferent from the Mohammedan view. In the Coming Common- 
wealth w^oman will certainly not, as now, form her character 
with the express aim of pleasing the man-fool. But she will 
have fuller opportunities than she ever yet has had of develop- 
ing her specific gifts of womanhood. Then esteem will be 
substituted for vapid compliments. 



206 WOMAN. 

However, this power of earning her living does not mean, that 
in tlie Xew Social Order all women, or even a majority of them, 
will be in the service of the public. Nothing will prevent the 
daughters from remaining at home, assisthig their mothers or 
caring for their fathers, and nothing will compel married wom- 
en to neglect their domestic aflairs. It simply means that ev- 
ery woman will be enabled to earn her own living, honorably, 
and pleasantly ■whenever she chooses so to do. And this power 
is essential to the dignity of woman, whether married or single. 

After what we have said on Suftrage in other chapters we 
need not dwell on that other, the principal, demand of our 
'■' women's rights" champions, that women now should vote 
as much as men. 

We, of course, suppose that in the Coming Commonwealth 
woman will be intrusted with the Suifrageto exactly the same 
extent as man — we say, advisedly, 'Entrust" for, all these cham- 
pions to the contrary. Suffrage is wo^ a ' right," nor is it a 
privilege^ but a trust. 

But what would the mere power to cast a ballot help woman 
now, supposing it were given to her? Suffrage is one of those 
things which are so very valuable, when you have not got it, 
and so very worthless when you have. The ballot has proven 
anything but a magic wand to the toiling workingmen, and it 
would be still more impotent in the hands of toiling women. 

The ballot would not bring strength to the lightless eye or 
the thin hand of the needle-woman of this age of competi- 
tion ; it would not remove the causes which now make wom- 
an prefer almost any marriage to working for a living. It 
might enable her to say a word about laws of divorce, but 
would not enable her to support herself when divorced. The 
ballot in her hand might suppress lewd houses, but would not 
prevent men from leading victims to the altar of their passions 
like sheep to the slaughter-bench. 

Neither are we blind to the consideration that if woman 
could exercise the suffrage to-morrow with the State as at pres- 
ent constituted, the result would in all likelihood be detrimental 
to progress, for it is undeniable, that they, taken as a whole, 
are far more conservative, even reactionary — no fault of theirs, 



WOI^IAN. 207 

though — than men. In the words of Admiral Maxse ; " Those 
who thhik unorthodox, that is, unusual thoughts, they (i. e. 
women of the present time) believe to be wicked. They turn 
instinctively from all initiative movements. Even superior 
women rarely have sympathy with the struggles which deter- 
mine the life of a nation. They are only interested in public 
affairs within the limits of the parish." But in t>lie Coming 
Commonwealth all these objections will disappear, for they 
can all be shown to be due to their one-sided education. 

Let us, however give credit to these persistent ''" women- 
rights" agitators for one thing. We are told, that in some 
settlenjents on the African coast free negroes are taunted by the 
slaves with having no white man to look after them. That so 
many of our women have got beyond the standpoint of those 
slaves is in the main due to those agitators. 

But for woman to expect, that her emancipation will be 
worked out before that of man is altogether illusive. And 
this is a sufficient reason, why all agitators for women's rights 
ought with enthusiasm to embrace Socialism, which will en- 
able woman to right, herself, all her other wrongs. 

Take marriage 

The New Order will necessarily, by the mere working of its 
economic principles considerably modify that relation. And 
is that relation such an ideal one now, that it would be a sac- 
rilege to touch it? 

Is marriage not now, at bottom, an establishment for the 
support of the woman? Is not maintenance the price which 
the husband pays for the appendage to himself? And because 
the supply generally exceeds the demand — that is, the effective 
demand — has woman not often to accept the offer ot the first 
man who seems able to perform this pecuniary obligation ot 
his? 

This is rather a commercial view to take of this " holy " re- 
lation, but is not, as- a matter of fact, marriage regarded by 
altogether too many as a commercial institution? Do not, in 
ftict, the total ofyoung women form amatrimonialmarket, regu- 
lated by Demand and Supply? Xothing is more natural than 



208 WOMAN. 

that it should be so now. It is most human, that in our pres- 
ent Social Order parents as well as young women should look 
upon marriage, without prospects of subsistence, with horror. 
Now, the Cooperative Commonwealth will dissipate that hor- 
ror. It will enable every healthy adult man and woman to 
marry whenever they feel so inclined, without any present or 
prosiDective misgivings in regard to their support or the prop- 
er education of children. Socialists are charged, ignorantly 
or insidiously, with attempting to destroy the family. Why ! 
we want to enable every man and woman to form a happy family. 

Somebody may here interject, that it is very inexpedient for 
people to marry yonng, since they must necessarily be wanting 
in judgment. To that we reply, that by '' young people " we 
mean develoi^ed, adult young people — children will in a prop- 
er social system remain in the care of their teachers till they 
have grown to maturity ; further, that nothing contributes so 
much to the chastity of a ISTation as the marriage of its young 
men as soon as possible after reaching the adult state ; and, 
lastly, that experience does not teach us, that judgment in 
love affairs increases with growth in years. The fear of over- 
population consequent on early and universal marriages we 
have already sho\^^l to be baseless. 

Next, the Coming Commonwealth will destroy the matri- 
monial market. 

When Wealth ceases to be a means of living by the labor 
of other people, and especially when an honorable and easy 
living is within her reach, we may suppose, that a woman 
will rarely consent to marry for anj^thing but love, will no 
longer consent to be bought to be a piece of furniture of any 
western Turk. Here, again, it is the j)oioer of earning that 
will confer true dignity on womanhood. 

Again, this economical equality of woman will greatly af- 
fect for the better her position as wife. 

Our marriage laws are the code of the stronger, made hy 
lords for dependents. True, in many states of our Union some 
modifications in regard to property have been effected in favor 
of the wife. But even in that regard the enormity everywhere 
prevails, that the wife as survivor of her husband has only a 



WOMAN. 209 

life-interest in the third part of their common estate, though 
she may have — and if she has heen a farmer's wife certainly 
has — contributed fully as much to its acquisition as he. The 
husband, if he be the survivor, on the other hand, takes atl 
her property. So that other injustice is everywhere law, that 
the wife, if the husband obtains a divorce from her, is driven 
homeless and penniless into the cold world, whiles if the hus- 
band be the sinner, she never will get more than a third of the 
common estate. 

But the essence of the wrong is, that in law the wife is noth- 
ing but the husband's property. Witness our scandalous actions 
for seduction, in which the husband sues for " damages" lor 
enticing away that which is his. Now the husband can say 
to his wife: '-Your will is mine and my will is my own." 
Now the wife must content herself with w^hat her husband 
pleases to give her. In fact, our system gives support to that 
fallacy that a husband '' gives" his wife money as much as to 
that other fallacy, that the employer " gives " work to his em- 
ployes. 

''That is the reason" as John S. Mill says, " why the fam- 
ily which should be a school of sympathj^-, tenderness and 
loving forgetfulness of self, is still oftener, as respects its 
chief, a school of wilfulness and overbearingness and un- 
bounded self-indulgence; the care for the wife and children 
being only care for them as part of the mans own interests 
and belongings." And all that because he is the '' chief I " 

The New Order will make husband and wife — equals^ and it 
will do it simply by giving the v^if^ power of earning her living 
by fitting employment. 

Not that Socialists, as we before remarked, expect a major- 
ity, or even a goodly number of married women to earn their 
own living, in fact. It is just because a great many of them 
are now compelled thus to work, that we can justly charge 
this capitalistic era with destroying family life. We emphat- 
ically hold, that it is the husband's province to provide for the 
necessities of his family, (much more so in the coming Com- 
monwealth where it will be so much more easy to do it) and 



210 WOMAN. 

that the wife has clone her full share of the common labor, 
when she manages her household properly. 

We simply w\ant to see the wife invested with the potentiality 
of economic independence of her husband, to be realized any 
time she sees lit. 

'*But when the wills and wishes of these 'equals' clash, 
who is to decide between them?" 

It is only a delusion to suppose constant collisions between 
husband and wife when they are made the equals of each 
other. It is far more likely, that equality will create mutual 
deference for each other's wishes, and mutual concessions. That 
is the way equality works among men. Even now lionorable 
men — gentlemen — fear trespassing against each other not the 
being trespassed against. *■' The only school of genuine moral 
sentiment is society between equals " as Mill says. Indeed, 
whenever man and wife are now really happy together, it is by 
ignoring and despising not by asserting, the subordination of 
woman to man which they hold in theory. 

Need we fear any lack of mutual concessions among two 
equal persons of opposite sexes who love each other? Is it 
not exactly the function of love to make of two such persons 
one: the true social unit? To create that most remarkable 
oneness where each merges his and her personality in the oth- 
er ; where each gratifies himself or herself, the more they sacri- 
fice themselves for each other? And if, unfortunately, love 
does not make them one, isn't it absolute presumption for any 
outside power to declare that they shall be one, and that one 
— the hicsband? 

And that leads us to consider, that the Coming Common- 
wealth will enable the divorced wife, also, to support herself 
by fitting employment. 

As the effect of this, undoubtedly, will be to induce wives 
to seek divorce, whenever they are unhappily mated, we shall 
here have to confront the question : 

''Does Socialism favor divorce? and are Socialists free- 
lo"vers, as they are charged with being?" 

We answer, Socialism, as an economic system, must only be 
charged with the consequences which may logically be drawn 



WOMAK. 2ll 

from its economic principles. Because Socialism will facili- 
tate divorces, it follows not at all that it favors them. 

Again, Socialists are 7iot free-lovers in the popular accepta- 
tion of that term. 

The doctrine, that husband and wife should be at liberty to 
leave each other, and form other connections as caprice or in- 
clination may dictate, we hold to be a dangerous doctrine, and 
one especially dreadful to women, so long as mostly every 
man has got a sultan in his body. Marriage is a most need- 
ed test of man's love for woman, and when she stakes all her 
plans of life on his promise, he has contracted a series of 
weighty obligations that the Commonwealth should hold him 
to perform. 

Quite another thing is it, that Socialists generally hold, that 
there are many cases where a divorce is far preferable to the 
further cohabiting together of the parties. But we need not 
be Socialists to hold that view. 

Ilrns John S. Mill said: "Things never come" (with a 
married couple) '' to an issue of downright power on one side 
and obedience on the other, except where the connection alto- 
gether is a mistake, and it would he a blessing to both to be relieved 
from it.'''' And Mill was no free-lover and not a Socialist. 

Jeremy Bentham said: "'The interj)retation which the law 
now enforces of the contract of marriage is : We shall not 
be at liberty to separate though hereafter we come to hate each 
other as now we love each other ! This is shocking." He, on 
the other hand, considered it very sensible for the woman, in 
entering into the contract, to say to the man : '' If I give my- 
self up to you, you shall not be at liberty to leave me without 
my consent," and right for the State to enforce such a con- 
tract. Bentham, therefore, would grant a divorce, whenever 
the wife should be a willing party — and Bentham was no free- 
lover nor a Socialist. 

Fichte, the great German philosopher, held, that man always 
entered into the marriage relation, avowedly prompted by sex- 
ual passion. The chaste woman^ in submitting to her husband's 
embraces, was really prompted by the like passion, but with- 
out acknowledging it, even to herself; without in fact being 



212 WOMAN. 

aware of it. Her apparent motive in giving herself over to 
him is her love for him, her confidence in him. Fichte consid- 
ered this veiling of woman's real by her apparent motive to 
be the essence and rationale of chastity^ explaining why man- 
kind requires that virtue — imperatively — in a good woman, but 
not absolutely in a good man. He, therefore, would have divorces 
granted in all cases, where the wife for any cause desired it, 
and to the husband in case of adultery by her: for in either 
case it was evident, that the wife's love for her husband had 
fled, and without ]ove on her part she would degrade herself 
by connection with him and render the relation eo ipso immoral. 

It must be remarked, that Fichte by no means claimed, that 
love in man is a fiction, but he maintained, that his love is a 
growth during marriage, sown and nourished in him by his 
wife's love for and trust in him. 

Now, Fichte has not generally been considered a free-lover, 
and though he may be looked upon as the forerunner of Ger- 
man Socialism, he cannot well be called a Socialist. 

We are thus in pretty good company, when we say, that where 
there is dislike between husband and wife, their union is an un- 
mitigated evil to both, and not least to their children, if they have 
any ; that the welfare of children demands that the highest or- 
der of wedlock and marriage without mutual love breeds pesti- 
lence to all, however persistently our present Social Order 
styles it " sacred." 

But so it is. This hypocritic age combines in regard to all 
sexual relations the sternest total prohibition in theory with 
the vilest laxity in practice and stops aghast at the whispers of 
any mediary or modifying suggestions. 

The other day we noticed a dainty lady, the wife of a wealthy 
person whom she hardly could have married for love, sweep- 
ing by a fallen sister, as if fearing that the hem of her gar- 
ment might be touched and defiled. 

The former had, under our supposition — and it is notorious- 
ly true in very many instances — sold her person for money un- 
der cover of marriage. The latter does the same thing outside 



WOMAN. 213 

of marriage. Now, no hypocrisy, please ! In all candor : 
what is the difference between the two? 

And it is not fair to look upon the latter as she is. Look on 
her as she commenced to he what she is. 

Perhaps she was seduced and then left to shift for herself. 
Society now persecutes these victims of man'^s lust, as if it in- 
tended to force them to kill themselves or their children. 

In very many cases she is pushed toward the pit by poverty, 
by the small pay she receives for her toil under this wage-sys- 
tem. Poor girls are every whit as virtuous as boarding-school 
ladies. Yet, think of it, how much harder, how very much 
harder it is for the former to be pure than for the latter ! Is 
it remarkable, is it anything but human for them to give way 
to temptation, to accept the bribes of the beast in man? 

Let us admit that many fall because they like fineries and 
adornments too well. This, however, is no bad quality in it- 
self; it is merely an uncultured manifestation of a truly fem- 
inine characteristic : pride of appearance. 

But that of which this fallen woman stands the representa- 
tive is a horrible evil. It is called ' ' the Social Evil," and called 
so very properly by people who skim along the surface of 
things. It is a most loathsome ulcer on the social body, but 
the evil which causes this ulcer to break out is in the consti- 
tution of society. It is our economic system that also here is at 
fault. And the fact that this system serves as a hothouse for 
such plants is the most damning fact. 

The •' evil is said to be incurable. Indeed, so it is in our Es- 
tablished Order, since It is the cause of it. The only " reme- 
dy " this Order has for it is policemen, x3risons and asylums 
with prison rules. But that it is not in itself incurable has been 
proven by the Mormons. It is unknown among them, because 
they have no unmarried element for lust to prey upon. We 
admit, of course, that their mode of bringing this about is as 
bad as the disease. 

The Coming Commonwealth will cure it in the only proper 
way. 

It will protect and hold sacred every pregnant woman, wiiat- 



214 WOMAN. 

ever she may be, for she will enrich it with one member, at 
all events innocent. 

It will see to it that there are no giddy young girls running 
round on the streetri by themselves at night. 

But the economic changes we already have considered will 
be the most efficient cure by far. For 

It will, as we saw, enable all young people to marry who 
want to. The great majority of women, undoubtedly, will 
choose marriage ; and we believe experience teaches that mar- 
ried women exercise a far greater influence everywhere, also in 
public affairs, than the unmarried. 

But there will always be some women whose special voca- 
tion will be the Public Service; these will be cheerfully en- 
rolled among the public functionaries, for there will be use 
and even need for every one of them. 

Woman will then have full opportunity of developing all 
the possibilities of her womanhood, as man those of his man- 
hood — and that is Equality. 

We may add that the Coming Commonwealth will relieve 
woman of all drudgery in housekeeping. Our progress in 
that respect has evidently not at all kept pace with our prog- 
ress in other respects. Some feeble attempts have been made 
in that direction by individual enterprise, but they have near- 
ly all been limited to the well-to-do classes. Hardly any- 
thing of that kind has been, or will be done under the present 
Order for the immense mass of toiling women who most need it. 

The New Order will, we may be assured, do away with much 
worry in private houses in the way of washing and cookery, 
without sacrificing one jot of privacy or real home life. 

Thus we shall have for all. women as well as men, that true 
luxury of which now the great multitude, rich as well as poor, 
know nothing, leisure : the prerequisite for all development, 
all education. 



CHAPTER XI. 



EDUCATION IN THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 



'' All these were years a^o little red-colored pulpy infants, 
capable of being kneaded, baked, into any social form you 
chose." — Carlijle. 

'' The education of children is a trust, whose principal effects 
are to be felt after the death of the parents and teachers." 

The Value of Life. 

"The power of education is almost boundless; there is not 
one natural inclination which it is not strong enough to coerce 
and. if needful, destroy by disuse." — John 8. Mill. 

An Episcopal clergyman, of great influence in his de- 
nomination, once expressed himself to the writer hereof al- 
most exactly as follows : 

" The dispensation of Divine Providence determines the so- 
cial grade of children on their reaching adult age, just as their 
pecuniary condition is settled. If a father is a vagabond, 
why! his children must suff"er from the iniquity of the father: 
that is God's law. It is absurd to claim, that a child has a 
' right ' to a liberal education, or to such an education as is, 
at present, given in our public schools. To take the property 
of a citizen in order to give the children of his poor neighbors 
such an education is as unjust as to compel him to furnish food 

In short to demand a 



216 EDUCATION. 

liberal education for all children is not less monstrous than to 
demand roast beef and plum-pudding for them. I can assure 
you, that this doctrine is held by a very great number of the 
most thoughtful Christian people, Protestants, not less than 
Catholics, and I am convinced, that, hoAvever unpopular this 
doctrine seems novv^, the country will in fifty years adopt it in 
sheer self-defence." 

^' I am well aware," he continued, ^' of that well-worn ar- 
gument, that ignorance in a people is too great a danger in a 
State, and especially in a Republic, but there is evidently no 
more danger in ignorance than in physical destitution. And 
then," he added, " we are very willing, that the ciiildren of 
poor people should be given, as a Christian cliarity, uminimum 
education ; that they should be taught to read and write, so that 
they can read their bibles and their ballots. But this is some- 
thing very different from the education, now furnished by our 
public and high-schools. Again, you must not understand me 
to say, that the State should furnish that ' minimum ' educa- 
tion, I thinli this is not the State's business at all, for it is not 
a charitable institution." 

I could not help smiling at this idea of a minimum educa- 
tion; it reminded me of the mistress who was quite willing 
her maid should learn to write^ but not to write like a " lady.'''' 

Well, this is a pretty frank declaration of a representative 
of our luxurious '' society." He is confirmed by the following 
sentiments, taken from a Presbyterian periodical: '-It is 
God's decree, that children shall inherit the culture and posi- 
tion of their parents and that which they provide for their 
children. Knowledge, culture and virtue are not to be ex- 
tended beyond tlje fortunate youths for whom their parents 
secure them. The sad law holds good, that ignorance audits 
consequences must needs be hereditary." 

There is here a remarkable sympathy between the thought- 
ful Presbyterian and the thoughtful Episcopalian. 

ISTow, these gentlemen who uttered these sentiments are cer- 
tainly frank. They are not bad men ; quite the reverse. They 
are intelligent, above the average. Wiiat if they are right? 



EDUCATION. 217 

We mean, what if their sentiments are sound, from the stand- 
point cf the Established Ordei\ of course ? 

Is it not true, that the destitution of tlie masses is just as 
dangerous to a republic as ignorance is? 

Would it really be more " monstrous " to demand roast beef 
and plum-pudding than to ask for a liberal education? 

And is it anything but robbery under tli^ euphonious name 
of taxation when the State, which recognizes the lleecings of 
its enterprising citizens as '• sacred " property, puts its hands 
Into their pockets and devotes what it extracts to purposes 
that are objectionable or indifferent to those citizens? 

And pray! If the present Social Order is to continue for 
ever, what business have these working masses — these neces- 
sary evils ! — anyway with a liberal education? Their virtues 
consist in being humble, frugal, temperate, industrious and 
contented with the station '• to which it has pleased God to 
call them". It is notorious, that education contrariwise makes 
them self-assertive, gives them expensive habits, makes them 
hanker after comforts and luxuries, causes them to fret under 
toil : in short, makes of them rebels against their superiors, 
and the more '• liberal " the education, the more unmanage- 
able rebels. By all means, then, if they must be educated at 
all, let it be so much ''minimum," that it will not endanger 
their "virtues I " 

Our "' Zi6e>'aZ " friends have only one line of defence left: 
that it is cheaper to build schools than jails, that education 
diminishes crime. But neither of these i^ropositions is true. 
Onr schools cost more than our jails ; and the fact is, we build 
jails in the same proportion that we build schoolhouses. 

Neither reason nor facts sustain the assumption, that igno- 
rance has any particular relation to crime. Mere intellectual 
training does not make good citizens, but will undoubtedly 
make out of clumsy lawbreakers refined rascals. 

The most reprehensible crimes are by no means committed 
by ignorant persons. Bank-burglars are often as intelligent 
as bank-presidents ; forgers as a rule as educated as railroad- 
directors. In France, w^here a generation ago two-thirds of 
the inhabitants could neither read nor write, there occurred 



218 EDUCATION. 

in a given period fourteen times less crimes than in Prussia 
where compnisory education prevailed. Already DeToque- 
ville remarked that in our country crimes increased with in- 
struction, and the census of 1880 has informed us, that the 
I^orthern States with their costly school-houses and still more 
palatial jails are more criminal than the uneducated South. Sup- 
pose we take all the States east of the Mississippi, and compare 
those^north of the Ohio witlx those south of the same river, we find 
that the criminals detained in penal institutions of every kind 
on the 1st of June 1880 amomited in the former to 1 in 827 of 
the population, hut in the latter only to 1 in 932. 

Thus the spokesman of our "thoughtful Christians" — the 
cream of our employers, capitalists, comfortable classes — 
seems to have all lo^ic on his side. Will then really m, say, 
fifty years our public schools, high schools and state univer- 
sities be closed? 

Ah! there is one thing to which he is blind. 

lie sees very clearly that we are fast approaching the econ- 
omic condition of older countries, that the gulf is daily widen- 
ing between Dives, the few, and Lazarus, the teeming multi- 
tude. He is also keen enough to see that for the Class-State 
to maintain free education for the poor would be to commit 
suicide. If all are to be well educated who will do the menial, 
servile work of the ruling class? How can there be mas- 
ters if none will consent to be subjects? It is clearly to the in- 
terest of the governing class that education be limited to the 
elect few and that the masses be kept in ignorance. 

But he leaves entirely out of account — as who does not? — 
the present tendency of the social organism in the direction of 
Socialism, of Interdependence. Oh, if we could with propri- 
ety emphasize that central fact on every page of this book! 
For we have not written these pages, in order to show that the 
Socialist system is a good system. They have been written in 
vain, if it will not have been brought home to our readers 
that the fact that Society is moving irresistibly toward Social- 
ism is the one important fact ; that we are going to have the 
Socialist State whether it is good or bad, and that every active 
individual in our country is, consciously or unconsciously work- 



EDUCATION. 219 

ing to that end in some way. This, therefore, is the central 
factof Societ}^ and the red thread running through these pages 
as well. We, nevertheless, also insist upon this, but only in 
the second line, that the goal itself, the Socialist State, will 
prove an imense good even to those who now deem it an 
abomination. 

Xow, this very fact that all progressive countries are com- 
mitted to the common school system is, as already noticed in 
a former chapter, both an indication whither the stream flows 
and one of the chief impelling forces. Our Liberals are per- 
fectly right when they feel that they must uphold and extend 
universal education and that to give it up would be to turn 
back to barbarism, but they have none but fallacious reasons 
to give for the faith that in them is. 

The fundamental and all-sufiicient reason for giving all as 
good an education as possible is that the Socialist State is upon 
us. It is not a matter to be fought out between '^ Liberals " 
on one hand and -'thoughtful Christians'' on the other; 
it is simply one phase of the contest between the Established 
Order and the New Order. The ancients told a story how their 
old god, Saturn, was wont to devour his children as soon as 
they were born, but that one of them, Jupiter, managed to 
evade his father, until he grew strong enough to overpower 
and dethrone him. This fable will get a new significance in 
the approaching undoubted victory of the social system which 
is soon vigorously to assert itself over the present system 
which would strangle its offspring, if it could. 

This throws quite a new light— a kind of electric light — 
on this blurred subject of education. 

Society hitherto has been burdened with a vast number of 
unassimilated members and in consequence has clung to a 
large part of its crudeness. But the Interdependent Common- 
wealth cannot get along in that way at all. Just as it assim- 
ilates the masses, it must elevate them; it is the unavoidable 
condition for its own welftire — its very existence. Why, many 
of our readers already will have observed that such a Com- 
monwealth as we sketched in our 5th and 8th chapters presup- 
poses universal education. 



220 EDUCATION. 

And that i\\Q finished Socialist Commonwealth in fact does; 
wherefore also we called education the true starting point of 
the l!^ew Order. But many will go on and say that the first 
thing, then, to which we should have called attention ought 
to have been this matter of education and not the economic 
condition of the people. No, not so, as we shall presently 
make clear. 

A book, called '• Dynamic Sociology" by Lester F. Ward 
was published a short time ago by the x\ppletons. It 
would be a most instructive book if it were not so voluminous, 
and so terribly learned— and yet we cannot agree to its two prin- 
cipal propositions. These are : Happiness is the end of hu- 
man life — which seems at least doubtful to lis — and Education 
is the initial means to that end. Let the State only give a 
scientifically perfect education to all and the whole problem 
is solved, according to Ward. Education is, so to speak, a crank 
which, when properly applied, will, with comparatively little 
effort, turn the otherwise so unwieldy social machine. 

So it will. Education indeed, can accomplish wonders; no 
thick volumes and pretence of much learning are necessary to 
prove that. 

But how get the State to take the initiative? Who shall de- 
cide what is the scientifically perfect education? How get 
the parents to cooperate with the State? And what is the use, 
anyway to try to educate children who are poorly fed, poorly 
clad and poorly housed? 

All these first steps are taken when we get the Cooperative 
Commonwealth. 

We have seen that Social Cooperation demands first, and last, 
and at all time Competence. In order to get the greatest abil- 
ity in every branch of aifairs and in every post of duty : in 
order to sift out the most competent for the direction of af- 
fairs, and in order to make the citizens pass with ease from 
one employment to another, when required, all citizens will 
have to be trained ail-sidedly and to the highest point. Mon- 
otonous toil now crushes out millions of potential kmiin- 
aries of Society; if the true merits of mankind are to be 



EDUCATION. 221 

brought out, it must be done by equalizing the opportunities 
for all. 

And '' minimum" education will not do at all. Simply to 
teach children to read and write is the same as to teach them 
the use of knife and fork without giving them a particle of 
meat ; or as to furnish them the key to a larder, containing 
poisons as well as victuals, without telling them which is food^ 
and which poisons. In fact, children are more likely to choose 
the poisons than the food : witness their voracious consump- 
tion of trashy novels and other vicious literature. The high- 
est grade of education will be the best possible investment for 
the future Commonwealth. 

Again, the Interdependent Commonwealth will take care 
that all children do get roast beef and plum pudding and that 
they, besides, have warm clothes to their backs, clean linen 
to their bodies, and comfortable shoes to their feet, and warmth 
and light at home, and these goodies will be provided before 
th eir education is thought of. 

Again, the Interdependent Commonwealth will relieve chil- 
dren from the task of being bread-winners. The 182,000 chil- 
dren who according to the Census of 1880 were employed in 
manufactures in our country were not thus robbed of the bright 
days of childhood solely because employers could coin 
money out of them. The horrible fact is that their parents 
cannot make both ends meet without the labor of their chil- 
dren, and that in Massachusetts where a few weeks school- 
ing yearly is required by law of children between 10 and 15, 
many parents feel themselves tempted to evade that law by 
false swearing in regard to the age of their children. It is an in- 
famous system that bears such fruits. And yet there are po- 
litical economists whose hearts are so seared and whose un- 
derstanding is so obscured by being trained in that system that 
they glory in the fact that children can be utilized in augment- 
ing the wealth of the country ! These hundred thousands of 
children, as well as the urchins who gain their own precarious 
existence and partly that of their parents as newsboys, boot- 
blacks, cash-boys, will have the most important period of their 



222 EDUCATION. 

lives — that in which character is formed — saved to them, as 
soon as their parents are secured a decent living. 

But that is by no means all. This that not only tlie children 
but that the parents also will have roast beef and plum pud- 
ding is of vast importance to the cause of education. For it 
will relieve the fathers and mothers of the body-and soul-de- 
vouring care Avhich is the special curse of our age ; it will give 
these fathers and mothers, to whom now even reflection is for- 
bidden, LEISURE, and thus make them eftective allies of the 
Commonwealth, because leisure is the incentive to all progress. 

The bread-and-butter-question is therefore the fundamental 
question. We see here again how Socialism, by revolutionizing 
the economic relation of Society, will revolutionize all other 
relations. 

Education, then, will be the second important branch of the 
activity of the New Commonwealth. Let us now consider what 
organ is likely to be intrusted with the function of education. 

In the discourse above referred to our Episcopal Mentor al- 
so laid it down : 

'" God has instituted three coordinate authorities : the Fam- 
ily, the Church and the State. The Family is imperium in 
imperio — a dominion within the dominion ; — the parent is ex- 
clusive master Avithiu that dominion." 

Well, we can pretty safely assert to the contrary that the 
Coming Commonwealth will not acknowledge the Church as 
a coordinate ''• authority." 

There was a time when the two were coordinate authorities. 
At that time it was still doubtful which of them was destined 
to be the embodiment of the social organism. Out of that 
struggle the State has already virtually issued as the victor: 
the "• Church " is in all civilized countries already virtually 
nothing but a voluntary association. ''God" thus has al- 
ready decided against the pretensions of the Church; and this, 
as we already noticed in the fifth chapter, is the most impor- 
tant step, perhaps, in the movement of the State toward 
Socialism. 

And we can also be assured that the Church will not be 



EDUCATION. , 223 

made the organ of the State for education purposes. 

There is one all-sufficient reason : the Church is not com- 
petent. 

Circumstances for centuries gave education into the hands of 
the Church, and she then perhaps performed that function as 
well as could be done. Let us grant tliat much. But we are 
not living in the Middle Ages. So far from being in our age 
an institution of enlightenment, the Church is now looked up- 
on by all well-informed people as an institution to darken 
men's minds. We simply state facts. The men of science as- 
sume the falsity of all theological dogmas. The Church is 
incompetent, because she knows nothing worth knowing — we 
are again simply stating facts. The Church has still some in- 
fluence, partly on account of our hypocrisy, and hypocrisy is 
prevailing as it is, just because this is a transition age ; but the 
Coming Democracy will want to know and will wage an un- 
relenting war against all shams. 

We, furthermore, maintain that neither will the Family be 
acknowledged a coordinate authority. 

This, however, is a much more important assertion than the 
former, and is not quite as evident, though on reflection it 
will be found just as true. But we cannot fail in passing to 
remark that it is amusing to see the solicitude the Church has 
for the authority of the Family now, when her own importance 
is on the wane. When she had supreme power, she certainly 
did not consider the Family coordinate with herself. 

The first evidence we shall adduce to show that the Com- 
ing Commonwealth will assert supremacy as against the Fam- 
ily is that which we everywhere throughout this book place 
at the head : the logic of events. Just in the same proportion 
the State has aggrandized itself, the Family has dwindled in im- 
portance. The State commenced to repudiate the '^ dominion " 
of the Family the moment it forbade parents to destroy their 
children ; it absolutely rejected that •' dominion" the moment 
it, the State, fixed the age of majority, when the child is en- 
tirely emancipated from parental control. 

Why ! the system where authority is vested in the Family, 
as distinguished from the State, is that patriarchal, barbaric, 



224 EDUCATION. 

system from which we are more and more retreating. Proud- 
hon is decidedly right when he says : " It is on the model of 
the Family that all feudal and antique societies have organized 
themselves, and it is precisely against this old patriarchal con- 
stitution that modern democracy revolts and protest s^ It is yet 
sometime said that '• blood is thicker than water, " but that is 
not often the case now; and this fact that the Individual has 
become almost independent of the Family is merely the prep- 
aratory stej) to the supremacy of the State. 

Next, in the very nature of things, Family-Supremacy will 
be absolutely incomiDatible with ^w Interdependent^ asolidaric. 
Commonwealth, for in such a State the first object of educa- 
tion must be to establish in the minds of the cliildren an in- 
dissoluble association between their individual haxjpiness and 
the good of all. To that end family exclusiveness must be 
broken down, first of all. A public spirit, i. e. the spirit of 
all being members of one social organism, must be substituted 
for family-spirit. jSTow please do not misunderstand the So- 
cialist position in this respect ! We do not make war on the 
family ; on the contrary, our aim is to enable every healthy 
man and woman to form a family. But we do make war on 
fuLxmlj-exclusiveness — perhaps a better word than '"selfishness" 
— on fauAly -prejudices and fumilj-narrowness and we are glad 
to be able to say that our common schools are doing very much 
to break down that spirit. 

To hear some fathers talk of what is commonly called '' com- 
pulsory " education, one should suppose that a man's children 
were literally a part of himself. When they are not allowed 
to be masters over their offspring, to choose what is wrong 
for their children— and we know that as to education the 
greater the need the greater is the dislike — they call that an in- 
fringement of their '• liberty; " the fact is, they do not value 
liberty^ but irresponsible j:)0W7er. 

Children do not belong to their parents ; they belong to So- 
ciety, The observation of Franklin, that, if we go back but 
a few generations, we necessarily come to common ancestors ex- 
presses the truth, that we are more the children of Society than 
of our several families. Again, the education of children is of far 



EDUCATION. 225 

more iraportanceto the State than to parents, since the effects 
of it will be felt by Society, and princiijally after these parents 
are dead and gone. It is because through it Societj* accom- 
plishes tlie end of its being, that all education is a public trust. 

Just as little as parents will the many denominational and 
private schools and colleges whi(5h we now have do. Even 
granted that the education in, say, the Quaker college of 
Swarthmore is fully up to the standard of any public college, 
the New Order cannot get along with such one-sided, awrj^, 
cramped men and women as necessarily must issue from such 
a one-sided school. 

Lastly, the same objection applies to the Family as 
to the Church: it is incompetent to teach. That is the 
main objection against Herbert Spencer's justly popular 
book on ''Education.-' He assumes throughout his treatise 
(which might better have been called ''Home Training") 
that parents are competent to teach their children. Why ! 
the fact is, that even now most children of the age of twelve 
are more fit to teach their parents in all more important branch- 
es than the reverse. If any man might be supposed qualified 
to teach his son, it was James Mill, and yet we know from the 
pen of John Mill that he would have been of greater ser- 
vice to the world, if he had been trained in a public school. 
Now it is true, that in the New Commonwealth mothers will 
be tar better qualified to assist in the development of their in- 
fants than now, yet their general incompetency will still re- 
main, on account of the higher grade of education which will 
obtain. At all events, a sufficient objection is and will remain 
that seeming paradox, that parents know none so poorly as 
their own children; they prate of qualities which no impar- 
tial person can discover. 

The Coming Commonwealth must radically do away with 
all and any form of quackery and amateurship, in education- 
al matters especially. Education is essentially scientific labor. 
A competent and qualified body of educators must therefore be 
raised up to whom the whole function of education can be in- 
trusted. 

Teaching is now a " business " and a temporary one at that. 



226 EDUCATION. 

To teach in order to get pocket-money, or wait for a chance 
to get into some other '•" business," or for a chance to 
marry, if the teacher is a woman as generally is the case, 
does not qualify for the grand art. The time teachers in onr 
country practice their profession is simply their own training 
period. We cannot have that genuine education which the 
new Commonwealth will demand, before we have teachers who 
have themselves been genuinely educated, next, thoroughly 
trained as teachers and who then will devote themselves with 
their whole soul to their profession. 

Here again, and more clearly than at any other point, we 
see how all-important, how indispensable the economic side 
of the New Order is to all other progress. For these teachers 
will not be raised up, before we have given them a dignified 
position economically. Teaching is now a temporary ^'busi- 
ness," because it is one of the most unprofitable positions, 
and because the teacher occupies a very low round in the so- 
cial ladder. In the New Social Order he will be rewarded 
proportionately to his important function and need take no 
thought for his advancing age. Furthermore, he will be a 
member of a corporation of the highest dignity in the State; 
a corporation embracing the teachers in the most elementary 
schools, as well as the professors in the various universities — 
genuine universities for untrammelled scientific investigation 
in all departments — and whose directors, superiors and repre- 
sentatives in the National Board of Administration we shall 
suppose elected and dismissed exactly as they will be in the 
other departments. 

This corps of educators will have in their exclusive charge 
the whole education from top to bottom and all scientific in- 
vestigations. They will be perfectly untrammelled, for such 
a system will enable them to say to all charlatans in their de- 
partment as the bakers, artisans and agriculturists can say 
in theirs : " mind your own business, sir ! You are not com- 
petent to say aught in this matter." 

There is not the smallest reason to fear that this will result 
in any spiritual tyranny, for the influence of this theoretic 
body of men is sure to be counteracted by that Public Opinion 



EDUCATION. 227 

of tlie practical majority which we saw will be of extraordi- 
iiaiy force in tlie Coming Commonwealth. We ought rather 
to hail such a strong and inde[3endent organization of a class, 
devoted to the cultivation of knowledge, as a healthy counter- 
poise to that Public Opinion. We may also suggest that tlie 
present teudencj' of founding universities in every section 
and almost every State of our country (though so far it has 
generally only resulted in founding university buildings) may 
be the sowing of germs of many different centres of science 
under the Nevv Order, and thu.^ contribute, as it has in Gei- 
many,to intellectual freedom and all-sidedness. 

Then, and not till then, we can begin to have anything that 
deserves tlie name of education. Then, as we have noticed 
several times, we shall have arrived at the true starting point 
of the Cooperative Commonwealth. It will thus be seen that, 
even if all the conditions were ripe tomorrow for the inaugu- 
ration of the New Order, we could not hope to do anything 
more in the generation, then living, than lay the foundation, 
deeply and firmly, for its upbuilding; among other things by 
training capable persons belonging to the second generation 
to be the educators of the third— to have charge of this third 
generation /ro?i^ its earliest infancy till it 7'eaches the adult age. 

Consider how many, many children are now sent into the 
world at an age, when those of wealthy parents are still in 
the nursery ; consider that the average time children attend 
school is in our cities hwtjive, and outside our cities but three 
years ; consider that such an -'enlightened" state as Massachu- 
setts requires only a yearly school-attendance of twenty-weeks 
of her children under fifteen years; consider that in spite of 
this law 25,000 of her children never have seen the inside of a 
school-room; consider that 10,000 infants under ten years are 
working in the factories of that same enlightened State ; * consid- 
er that all over our country, with «?? our children, schooling 
stops when the thinking process really first commences, and 
is it any wonder that our educational results are wretched? 

Why! the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth years con- 

* For these facts see an article on '' Children's Labor " in At- 
lantic Monthly, December, 1880. 



228 EDUCATION. 

situte the most criticil period of a boy's life, and left to him- 
self he is, dm-ing those years and until he become restrained 
by experience, really one of the most dangerous members of 
Society. That these boys turn out to be as noble men as many of 
them do is a sufficient proof of the inherent goodness of human 
nature. But when the New Order has arrived, we shall be unan- 
imous in acknowledging that restraint is just needed as a sort 
of astringent, to give maximum of power. We shall have 
learned that a young man who is kept under close and contin- 
ued discipline of proper persons till twenty-one is sure to have 
a more vigorous and original character than one left to its own 
devices at an age when mind is yet unformed. And as far 
as our girls are concerned we shall yet sooner have learned a 
similar lesson . 

You will very likely doubt that such a radical change will 
take place here where, preeminently, it is the practice to leave 
the young men and women to shift for themselves. In the 
same way many doubts might have been raised as to the suc- 
cess of the common school system, judging from the opposi- 
tion to it from so many quarters at its introduction. Yet 
nearly all parents now avail themselves of it, driven by an un- 
conscious impulse. And so, when the Great Change occurs, 
novelties will soon become familiar. 

But the greatest novelty will be the new ideal of education. 

That is the only matter left us to consider. We have noth- 
ing to do with what will be taught or how to teach it. That 
we for our part shall leave to the competent ; already too many 
amateurs have had their say on that subject. But even those 
now most qualified would be incompetent to frame a curricu- 
lum for our future schools, for the ideal of education now will 
by no means be the ideal of the Coming Commonwealth. 

The ideal, the end sought to be attained, now of education 
is to enable the individual to achieve success in life, to get the 
better of their fellowmen in the struggle for the good things of 
this world. That is the meaning of Individualism. ISTo mat- 
ter that in the nature of things but few can achieve that suc- 
cess, and that those who do succeed generally at the end of 



EDUCATION. 229 

their career consider their success not worth the trouble, that 
teacher is considered the best who best knows how to qualify his 
pupils for the battle of life. That is why teachers stiinuhxte 
the '"ambition" of tlieir scholars with prizes, marks, relative 
places in the school-room &c. That is also why they cram 
their pupils with facts and commoK-places of received opin- 
ions and persist in teaching them Latin and Greek so that they 
may afterward quote classical extracts for the sake of effect. 

The end to be attained by education in the Coming Com- 
monwealth ' will be a very different one. It likewise will be 
to qualify the pupils for the battle of life, but against nature 
and in accord with their fellows. That is the meaning of Social 
Cooperation. 

In that Commonwealth prizes will not be used, because they 
only excite a few while leaving the mass phlegmatic; they 
will be condemned as anli-sociaL Perhaps in t heir place the 
educators will have recourse to Bentham's suggestion of a 
scholar-jury, scholar-suffrage, leaving it to the scholars them- 
selves to determine by their votes the relative position of each 
other in the school-room. That will be a proper extension of 
the suffrage and will bring home to the minds of the pupils, 
that all suffrage is a trust. 

Conformably to that new ideal the scholars will be impressed 
with gratitude for the blessings which all past generations 
have conferred upon them, and it will be urged upon them 
that they owe all to Society. 

They will be taught ho w to utilize all the sources of liappiness 
which Nature and the Commonwealth supply, for the New 
Order will want them to have many tastes and needs. 

But especially will they be taught to perform well their 
functions in Society. 

It will by that time be fully known, that a man trained for 
one subject only never becomes a good judge in that one, even, 
whereas enlightenment and enlargement of his circle gives 
him increased power and knowledge in a rapidly increased 
ratio. Therefore a harmonious and balanced cultivation of 
all the faculties will be the first object. The pupils will be 
taught all that is known, and though that field seems immense 



230 EDUCATION. 

they will easily master it, for they will be led to the bottom of 
things and learn the fundamental laws and the connection of 
phenomena. They will be profound and complete human be- 
ings, all of them. We are tending more and more in that di- 
rection ; that is why such incomplete men and women, as Pu- 
ritans and Quakers, have hardly any of their old-time influence 
left. 

Again, a great deal will be done in order to find out the pe- 
culiar fitness of every child. Now next to nothing is done to 
discover the natural aptitude of children, or to substitute choice 
for chance in the allotment of the various social functions. 
And so it may be said that the mistake which all teachers make 
is to teach the same lesson in the same way to all. 

But Goethe suggests in the second volume of his Willielm 
Meister^ that every human being is born into the world with a 
particular talent of some kind or other. In his opinion, it is 
only requisite to recognize that particular talent in the child? 
and foster it, in order to develop all its other faculties, and 
that, if that talent be not found out and developed, it is the 
fault ot the educator. He grounds this suggestion of his on 
the well-known pedagogic experience, that a teacher can suc- 
ceed with even the dullest child, as soon as he manages 
to win its interest for some object, whatever it may 
be ; in other words as soon as he succeeds in discovering 
the drift of that inborn talent in the child. As soon, then, as a 
scholar is incited to voluntary activity and finds out that he 
is able to accomplish something in some one direction, it would 
be comparatively easy to awaken his selt-confidence, so that 
he will succeed in other respects. This special talent thus in- 
sures the possibility that every healthy child^ male and female, 
may have all its human faculties harmoniously developed. 

Now we do not say, that it is remarkable that educators have 
hitherto been entirely deaf to this important hint — for it is 
not, considering the present ideal of education — but we can- 
not help here to notice that an obscure teacher in Hoboken, 
N. J., Dr. Adolph Douai^ who, were the New Commonwealth 
now in existence, would undoubtedly be found in the front 
rank of its leading minds, has been the first and only profes- 



EDUCATION. 231 

sioiial educator who publicly has called attention to this sug 
gestion. We may be sure that the Coming Commonwealth, 
which can only furnish the necessary favorable conditions for 
the verification of this thought, will not be slow to utilize it. 
The institutions that have already shown themselves specially 
adapted to the discovery and unfolding of these latent talents 
in children, are the Kindergartens. Though as yet but compar- 
atively few of them exist in our country or elsewhere, those 
who teach in them have been able to discern in many children 
geometrical talent and aptitude for the study of natural sci- 
ences in whom otherwise nobody would probably ever have 
suspected them. These Kindergartens the Cooperative Com- 
monwealth will in all probability establish in all the nooks 
and corners of the country, not to say in every family, as the 
first and most important link in the chain of its educational 
institutions. 

Mr. Bain in his treatise on Education makes an important 
observation which is pertinent here : "If from the beginning 
one can interpolate five shades of discrimination of color where 
another can feel but one transition, the careers of the two can 
be foreshadowed as widely apart. To observe this native in- 
equality is important in predestining the child to this or that 
line of special training." 

This observation and predestination will be made in the Kin- 
dergartens, where also a taste for manual work will be imbibed 
at a very early age. Thereafter we suppose general education 
and special training will accompany each other, under the eye 
of the teacher, till the child reaches adult age. We judge so, 
not merely from considering the natural requirements of the 
Commonwealth, but from observing the various attempts that 
now are being made to find a substitute for that slavish and 
wasteful apprentice-system which happily is a thing of the 
past, by founding industrial schools, so-called " developing 
schools," and trying to make them a part of our common- 
school system. 

We do not know whether this hypothesis of Goethe, that all 
normal men are capable of being educated up to the same 

We know 



232 EDUCATION. 

of no fact that militates against it, but think there are many 
facts that confirm it. At all events, only the Interdependent 
Commonwealth can furnish the necessary conditions for its 
verification. Should it be found true, it is easy to see that it 
will prove of transcendant significance as it will lay the foun- 
dation for that perfect, absolute equalitij which is the ideal of 
Socialism — and yet, mark what an unlikeness^ what a variety 
there will be ! 

As the boys will be really educated, so the girls will be. In 
the New Commonwealth they will no longer be trained to 
please the man-fool, or acquire only accomplishments which 
give fullest scope to vanity, luxury and passion. No, they 
will be equally fitted for their appropriate functions as mem- 
bers of society, as wives and mothers, in institutions adapted for 
them. The latter qualification is important, for the motto which 
is the prominent characteristic of the modern American school- 
system, that '^ boys' and girls' schools should be one, and 
that one the boys' will surely be rejected by the Com- 
ing Commonwealth, as one against which physiology pro- 
tests. But the future woman will, by methods and regi- 
men adapted to her sex, reach the same plane of knowledge 
and intelligence as man and in that way become his equal and 
true companion. We shall tlien surely have complete men and 
complete women. 

But how can the State, when once it has taken charge of 
education, draw a line where education ends and moral indif- 
ference begins? 

The great need of the age is to organize, difi'use and assim- 
ilate that which is known. Humanity, indeed, does not now so 
much need more isolated facts, as to understand how all these 
facts are related to each other, and most of all, it needs to have 
that deeper, real knowledge made common property. Then 
first we can enjoy all the fruits of the tree of knowledge. 
Then, more particularly, we shall again reach a substantial 
agreement of opinion as to this Universe in which we live, 
what it means and what therefore is the part we ought to 
play in it. The anarchy of opinion of this transitory age is 
an enormous evil. Uinty of belief is the normal condition of 



i;ducation. 233 

the human intellect ; it is just as natural for healthy men to 
think and believe alike, as it is for healthy men to see alike. 

When one harmonious sentiment thrills through the whole 
of Society, we may expect a revival of the aesthetic sense of 
ancient Greece. This Gilded Age with its so-called ''promoters 
of the arts " create prostitutes of art, who exercise it, not for 
love of it, but to '' make " money by it. Imagine if you can, 
a Eaphael painting a Madonna, or Phidias sculpturing an 
Aphrodite for — profit! Art always is prostituted, when it 
only serves the vanity of the rich. In the present age poets do 
not sing for the masses, artists do not fashion their master- 
pieces for the masses as during the Christian Middle Ages or 
in classical Greece and Home. 

In Athens the whole people in the amphitheatre witnessed 
the spectacles, here — how different it is ! We have expensive 
theatres where our comfortable classes can idle away their 
time, but, as Beecher says, they are not for the poor. The 
theatre to w^hich the poor have entrance is perhaps the most 
vitiating of all social institutions. If there is anything that 
needs the helping, the reforming hand of the Commonwealth 
we should say it is the stage. It can be made the mightiest ed- 
ucational instrument. In j^articular, manners and address can 
be learned to perfection in the theatre, and only there. 

MatthewArnold says, pointedly : '• A handful of Athenians 
of two thousand years ago are more interesting than millions 
of our contemporary nations — because they present us the 
spectacle of a cultured people. It was the many in the highest 
development of their humanity; the many who relished these 
arts and were satisfied with nothing less than those monu- 
ments." 

So -in the Cooperative Commonwealth where care is forever 
banished art will once more belong in the midst of the people, 
because of its eminently educational importance. He who 
has learned to appreciate the Beautiful will never after have a 
taste for the Low. Art will re-enter into the open arena of 
life. 

But the greatest efiect of this common education and com- 
mon opinion will be the feeling of a common duty. 



CHAPTER XII. 



MORALS m THE COOPEEATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 



"Ethics are the finest fruits of humanity but not its roots." 

MallocTc's New BepuhUc. 

" Man lias it in liis power by his voUmtary actions to aid the 
intentions of Providence, but to learn those intentions he must 
consider what tends to promote the general good." 

John 8. Mill. 

''Mankind, without any common bond, any unity of aim, 
bent upon happiness, lias sought each and all to tread their 
own paths, little heeding if they trampled upon the bodies of 
their ' brothers ' in name, enemies in fact. This is the state 
of things we have reached today." — Mazzini. 

We have said that socialism, considered as simply an econ- 
omic system, will have a great influence, also, on morals — that 
is to say, it will greatly affect our relations to what is ''right" 
and " wrong," •' good" and " bad," " moral " and "immoral" 
and, though there is really no such thing as Socialist morals, 
may even affect our conceptions of what is "right" and 
"wrong." 

We have hitherto avoided, and pretty successfully we think, 
all commonplaces, all words involved in mist. The above ethi- 
cal terms are, however, such commonplaces. In order to begin, 
right at the start, to clear away the mist, we cannot do better 
than quote George Eliot : 

" Let a contractor enrich himself by making pasteboard soles 



MORALS. 235 

pass as leather for the feet of unhappy soldiers; let a spec- 
ulator ret h-e to private life on ten thousand a year after cheat- 
ing widows and hardworking fathers of all their savings, you 
often hear charming women pity such men, when they come 
to grief, and exclaim : " He is a thoroughly moral man,' mean- 
ing thereby, that he is not a drunkard or a debauchee. * * * 
Is not this misuse of the word '' Morals *' a reason, why the 
ablest intellects are supposed to look on morals as a sort of 
twaddle for bibs and tuckers, as a mere incident of human 
stupidity?'' 

Now, to be sure, the economic changes which we have con- 
sidered will contribute vastly to the establishment of what we 
call the decencies. 

Drunkenness, ^. e. the habit of excessive drinking, which 
our social ••reformers" pronounce the cause of almost ail 
evil, is to the philosophic mind nothing but an effect, especial- 
ly an effect of care. When care is banished, we may be sure 
that drunkenness will be banished also. It is absurd to sup- 
pose that a happy young man will go and get drunk more than 
once. Bear also in mind, that when the New Commonwealth 
takes charge of the liquor traffic the dispensers of beer and 
liquor will no longer have an interest in the quantities sold, 
and none but pure and wholesome products will be sold. 

As to sexual irregularities we can say, that they will hardly 
be heard of as soon as woman is put in a position to spurn the 
bribes of man, and as soon as every young pair can marry 
without any fear of consequences. 

But it is far from us to limit ''Morals" to this shrunken 
meaning. To explain what we mean then by the words "right" 
and '• wrong" let us illustrate : 

Men for thousands of years used the words "up" and "down" 
with reference to themselves, and the consequence was confu- 
sion : what was " up " to one in one place was " down " to him 
in another place. It is only a few hundred 3^ears back that 
we commenced to comprehend the real, the scientific meaning 
of these terms: that "down" means towards the cen- 
tre of the earth, " up " away from that centre, and that 



236 MORALS. 

to one suspended in space there is absolutely no " up " and no 
"down." 

In the same way theologians presumed to tell mankind that 
" good" and '•'bad" actions were to be judged from their ef- 
fects upon the destiny of the actor. '• Sins " that were scarlet 
could therefore under certain circumstance be made white like 
snow. 

Science, and with it Socialism, which bases itself on the ver- 
ities of things, teaches that there would be no morality at all 
if man did not need his fellowmun ; that '-right " and "wrong" 
have reference, primarily, not to the individual actor,but to that 
greater organism, called Society. 

Gambling is wrong, is immoral, not because it tends to the 
ruin of the gambler, but because he cannot win unless some- 
body looses ; because gambling, thus, sears the sympathies 
and, therefore, is essentialy antisocial. 

"Eight" is every conduct which tends to the welfare of 
Society; "wrong" what obstructs that welfare. Bad actions 
are no longer " sins," but " crimes," and crimes can never be 
white as snow. 

Now, human beings have already learned by experience that 
they must act in a certain way under penalty of being unable 
to act together at all ; that Society could not exist at all with- 
out Integrity'^ that it could not progress ^Y\i\louX> Sympathy. 
We may call integrity the basis and sympathy the crown of 
Morals. 

It will be seen that there is no such thing as absolute, 
unchangeable morality. The different stages in the progress 
of Society evidently require different standards ; what was 
right at one period may be erainentl}^ wrong at a later period. 
Thus if Slavery was, indeed, the first necessary step of our 
civilization, the first lesson in cooperation, we must pronounce 
Slavery to have been right then — and the fact that the best 
men of antiquity: Socrates, Jesus, Aristotle, acquiesced in it 
tends to prove it so — however wrong it appears in the light of 
a higher morality. It, also, will be seen, that morals is truly 
a science, a very subtle science, as it involves a correct phil- 
osophy of Society, its tendencies and destiny. Is it any won- 



MORALS. 237 

der that morals has hitherto been a tissue of rhetorical 
and emotional commonplaces? Before anybody can say 
what is "• right " conduct, and whether he is a truly '' moral " 
man or not, he must possess all the knowledge and mental de- 
velopment which we have assumed will be the portion of ever}'- 
body when the New Socinl Order is in full swing. 

But to know what is " right " is only one side of the great sub- 
ject, rather the reverse than its front side. 

Tlie writer of this once listened toa very interesting lecture 
by Carroll D. Wright, the head of the Labor-bureau of Massa- 
chusetts on "our factory system," the leading thoaght of which 
was, that our industrial system, would be unobjectionable if 
both parties, employers and employes, would only go down 
to the foundation and be led by morality and religion. 

Therein lurks a fundamental mistake. Col. Wright ! 

Morals are not the foundation, still less religion. They are 
the top of our system. Interest — Self-interest — is the founda- 
tion^ the prime motor^ the mainspring of our actions ; so it is, 
has always been, and will always be. 

" Why should 7 do this thing ? "' "• why should / not gam- 
ble?" has always been the great practical question, and not 
'• is gambling wrong? " It is easy enough to gain intellectual 
assent to a moral precept, but the trouble is that a man is 
never tempted by things in the abstract, but when he does 
something wrong he does it for the sake of some particular, 
concrete thing. 

There is then the greatest possible difference between end of 
and motive to morality : and nothing is, not even the most self- 
sacriticing acts are done without a motive. That w^hich moves 
must be primary. Now, Col. Wright ! it is not our morality 
or want of morality which makes our economic relations what 
they are, but our economic system that makes our morality 
what it is. 
That is the hinge on which this chapter turns. 

In former chapters we have analyzed our economic relations. 
Let us now see how it stands with our integrity and note the 
relation there is between it and our economic system. 



238 MORALS. 

First in order come the so-called crimes against property. 
Robbery, burglary, larceny, embezzlement, common swind- 
ling, murder and arson, when committed in pursuit of wealth 
(and it is only in that connection we here have to consider 
them,) are all acknowledged offences against Society. And 
probably no one doubts that there are more such crimes com- 
mitted now than in any former age. To take one instance as 
illustration : For a merchant to become bankrupt w^as form- 
erly a life-long disgrace; now bankruptcies are so frequent, 
that they are considered mere incidents of ''business" and 
are fticilitated by law. It may be said that there are more oppor- 
tunities for committing such crimes, but what we here want 
to make clear is the simple fact, that these crimes are more fre- 
quent now, in proportion to the population, than /. i, during 
the Middle Ages — no matter how it comes. 

But now we arrive at the first point that we wish to make. 
Such practices as those above mentioned are the only ones 
which we of this age stigmatize as crimes : we call by that 
name only acts that may bring their perpetrators into the peni- 
tentiary. Ought not, in view of the philosophic definition of 
'•right" and ''wrong" conduct, every grievous offence against 
Society be so called? To be sure, in that case most of the 
leaders of our self-styled " society" may come to be reckoned 
as criminals. 

Henry Ward Beecher once told his congregation of mer- 
chants, bankers, politicians and speculators : "the laws against 
larceny have no relations to me. I am on too high a plane to 
be affected by any temptation to steal." In other words : 
"Thank God, that I and you, dear brethren and sisters, are 
not on a plane with that rabble that commit crimes against 
property ! " 

Are they on a higher plane? 

Herbert Spencer has shown, that Trade in England is essen- 
tially corrupt and that there success in business has become 
incompatible with strict integrity. It is certainly not better 
here. Are the tricks of trade not offences against Society? 
Is "commercial cannibalism," as Spencer calls it, not a crime? 



MORALS. 239 

Adulteration of provisions has everywhere become a social 
institution. Is that not a crime? 

Are the traps ingeniously devised by speculators for the 
punishment of ignorance in people of small means, are the 
corners gotten up in money, stock, wheat and pork not crimes? 

Our late income-tax was repealed for the avowed reason, 
that it could not be collected, because our rich men were far 
more ready to swear falsely, than to hand over a small per- 
centage of their vast incomes. Were these rich men not crim- 
inals? 

It is a fact, that directors of gigantic corporations so man- 
ipulate things, that the public is taxed heavily to pay divi- 
dends on "watered" stocks. Are these men less guilty, be- 
cause powerful? 

It is notorious, that our politicians are corrupt from top to 
bottom. Even if too '4iigh-toned" to debauch voters, in per- 
son, they are ready enough to raise corruption-funds, and 
never squeamish as to profiting by the bribery. Are these ''emi- 
nent citizens'" on ''too high a plane'' even according to the 
ethical code of to-day? 

But we shall have to go a good deal farther ; we cannot af- 
ford to compromise. In morals there is no difference between 
" legitimate " and "illegitimate" offences against Society. 
Everyone who pockets gains without rendering an equivalent to So- 
ciety is a criminal. 

Every millionaire is a criminal. 

Every one who amasses a hundred thousand dollars is a 
criminal. 

Every president of a company with nominal duties, if his 
salary is but a thousand dollars, is a criminal. 

Everyone who loans his neighbor $100 and exacts $106 in 
return is a criminal. 

Again, it is a fact, that the mere transfer of products is a 
very low order of labor, requiring only the most ordinary and 
inferior kind of mental qualities, which, if it received simply 
an equivalent in return, would be allowed but the very lowest 
compensation. Yet it is that very mercantile class which ab- 
sorbs all the wealth by every available form of deception and 



240 MORALS. 

Strategy, while a thoroughly skilled artisan cannot possibly 
amass a large competence by the diligent prosecution of his 
trade. This whole mercaniile class is a criminal class in re- 
gard to by far the largest part of their income ; one of our 
really dangerous classes — and the same applies to their cousins, 
the financial class. 

It is damnable hypocrisy in these mere dealers in products 
and financiers when they pretend to any extraordinary "exec- 
utive ability;" they know in their hearts, that they have 
but very little ability, very little skill. 

It is hypocrisy, when the poor mechanic who by superior 
skill produces all the wealth of the world is taught to look up 
to those who only handle his products. 

The whole integrity of our rulers can be summed up in one 
word: cash-payment. 

Our mechanics and artisans cannot be filled with too much 
righteous hate against such shams. 

And what about integrity in work? Well, it is bad at the 
start that the duty of doing one's proper work well is entirely left 
out of "morals " in popular speech. And yet it is by work 
that man takes his place among the creative forces of the uni- 
verse. As has been well said : " Thoroughness of workman- 
ship), care in the execution of every task undertaken, as if it 
were the acceptance of a trust which it would be a breach of 
faith not to discharge well, is a form of duty so momentous, 
that if it were to die out from the feeling and practice of a 
people national prosperity and happiness would be gone." 

The absence of such integrity is a most conspicious feature 
in the operations of modern industry, and is the most lament- 
able fact of all. It was not so during the despised Middle 
Ages. Then every artisan felt a pride in his skill and in turn- 
ing out good work. Now shoddy work is abounding. It has 
come out in the investigations of the Trades-Unions in Eng- 
land, that the men are required by their masters to " scamp " 
their work, that is, turn out inferior work and that this is just 
the reason why the masters are so determined to introduce 
piecework instead ot daywork. 

Such is our integrity — the basis of our morals. This was 



MORALS. 241 

the first point which it was necessary to establish : that our 
^•best people" are criminals. If they themselves do not 
know it, it is simply because their understaudinof is being 
clouded by their interests and the opportunities of the system. 

If this hypocritic age should frankly enunciate its moral 
code, it would say : 

Tliou and thine may keep whatever thou canst get. 

Carlyle has illustrated this in a drastic manner. He makes 
one pig ask another : 

"What is justice?" 

'^ Your own share of the general swine's -through, not any 
portion of my share." 

''But what is ' my' share?" 

"Ah, there is the rub upon which piggism can settle abso- 
lutely nothing. My share? Hrumpli! My share is, on the 
whole, whatever I can contrive to get, without getting hanged 
or sent to the hulks." 

Now we come to our second point : how is it that we have 
so far attained to this low level of integrity? Why do people 
steal, and rob and embezzle ? 

We claimed in the preceding chapter, that ignorance is not 
the cause of such crimes. We saw there, that these crimes 
are abounding in the most educated sections of our own coun- 
try. Indeed the most reprehensible of these crimes cannot he com- 
mitted by ignorant persons. True, among the lowest criminal 
class you find much ignorance, but so you find much unclean- 
liness, many dkty shirts, and frequently no shirts at all. You 
might, therefore, just as well, perhaps with more propriety, at- 
tribute crime to want of a shirt or of soap as to want of ed- 
ucation. 

More superficial yet is it to attribute the crimes we now are 
discussing to drunkenness, simply because we find the low- 
est criminals so often associated w^ith poor beer and whiskej''. 
Drunkenness has very little to do with these crimes, most of 
which., in fact., cannot be committed hut by sober persons. 

Herbert Spencer finds a sufficient reason for the persistence 
and growth of crime in the fact, that the code of supernatural 
ethics which our forefathers had is losing its authority, and 



'J^Z MORALS. 

the moral injunctions, given by it, therefore more and more 
losing its sanctions, coupled with that other fact, tliat while 
the regulative system of our forefathers is thus decaying, we 
have not yet got any other regulative system to take its place. 

There is no doubt, that as long as people had a vivid dread 
of purgatory and hell fire, that was a powerful spur to good 
behavior. Yet, deliberate dishonesty and carelessness, so pe- 
culiar to human work alone, is so unnatural, that there must 
be a weightier reason for this decline of integrity. And tlien, 
we verily believe, and have reason to believe, that every man 
is naturally honest, and that the most inveterate thief would 
have remained honest if there had not been some positive temp- 
tation to lead him astray. The decay of religion can never be 
more than a negative reason. 

No, the only rational way is to consider every such crime as 
an act, preceded by a motive which, if it be but imperious 
enough, it is not in human nature to withstand ; in other words 
to look upon crime as essentially human. 

And when you do tljat, can you wonder, that our jails are 
full, when honest men are starving? Is it strange, that men 
in many of whom vagrancy has become a second nature — often 
originally from no fault of their own — prefer larceny, or burg- 
lary or swindling to toiling ten hours or more daily for a week- 
ly pittance of .^5.00? Is it anything but human to use any 
means to obtain wealth, when Society has made wealth the 
sovereign power? When one reads in novels and witnesses in 
plays how the hero and heroine are always rewarded by mar- 
rying—wealth? When one everywhere hears a man, in every 
way no better than himself, as *• worth" so many thousands 
of dollars and sees him the admitted superior of the most 
worthy of poor men? 

The fact is our iniegrity is simply the fruit of our struggle for 
life against each other^ and a river can rise no higher than its 
source. 

The economic system under which we are living creates all 
these frauds, dishonesties and this hypocrisy. Men Jind it 
to their advantage to adulterate goods and to manufacture shod- 
dy articles; indeed, our Established Order compels men to 



MOPvALS. 243 

seek their success in overreacliing others, makes it a merit in 
them to be imscrapulous, simply because everybody's interests 
have been made antagonistic to the interests of every other 
body. By this capitalistic system of ours Society lias been 
made the hunting ground for the sharpest individuals. 

It is evident, that the longer this system lasts, the more will 
these evils grow, for the struggle for life and success will be- 
come more and more intense ; wealth will come more and more 
to mean power, and the chase after wealth, therefore, will be- 
come fiercer and more savage. Sermonizing or lectures on 
Moral Philosophy have never affected ancl will never affect 
any state of mind. Prize-essavs against embezzlement will 
not diminish the frequency of this crime. 

Ko, we just see here exemplified what w^e stated in another 
place. When our social order is to be changed into another 
social order, (the case now, and in that other sceptical 
period before the introduction of Christianity) the change 
commences from above; disorganization commences at the 
top ; with religion ; then it goes down to morals and down to 
the foimdation, until the base has changed its position ; then, on 
the new foundation, on the new economic system, morals and 
religion will be rebuilt anew. Then the changed economic re- 
lations will furnish new motives for an enduring morality. 

Just as self-interest now is eating away the edges of morals, 
so self-interest must build up morals, and that the New Com- 
monwealth will make it do. It will make it men's interest to be 
honest; will make them find their advantage in being men of 
integrity, simply because its very essence is making the inter- 
ests of everybody identical with the interests of Society and 
of everybody else. 

The following reflections from an interesting work from 
which we have quoted before : TJie Value of Life^ written 
it is understood by an eminent scientist of New York, are here 
very pertinent : 

"It is no sentimentalism, but the simple expression of fact 
that the individual occupations of the members of Society 
cannot be adequately regulated, as long as they are regarded 
merely as the means for each of these persons to get his or 



244 MORALS. 

her living. By a crowd of official acts, from the inspection 
of markets to taking the census, Society, even as it is, expresses 
its recognition of the fact, that this vast mass of activities, 
constituting the 'business' of the community, represents the 
sum of its own vegetative functions, by which all its life, from 
the lowest to the highest plane of it, is sustained. In the dis- 
charge of these functions the money or ' living,' earned by 
each individual, is really the least important consideration. 
Thus it is of much less importance, that a butcher grow rich 
than that the thirty or forty families he supplies with meat 
receive good meat at fair prices. Whatever value attaches to 
the individual life of the butcher is multiplied forty times by 
the sum of those of his customers ; it is, therefore, their wel- 
fare, not his profit which must be the first consideration. In 
other words : The essential thing is, not that the butcher shall 
have a living, still less be rich, but that meat shall be supplied. 
The how and where are secondary details, to be regulated not 
by the convenience of the producer, but by that of the con- 
sumer. 

'' This indisputable line of reasoning overturns the theory, 
that work is performed for the sake of the producer, (whose 
advantage, indeed is quite subsidiary) and shows, that it is 
primarily for the benefit of Society or some group of persons 
in it. Of course, the worker, by entering into another group 
where he is the consumer, finds his welfare correlatively taken 
into account. The daily business is thus removed from the ig- 
nominy and pettiness of isolated individualism and elevated into 
an honorable function, while he who performs it becomes in- 
vested with the dignity of a public functionary. That the 
worker receives remuneration is incidental — that the work be 
thoroughly done is so essential, that it is inseparable from any 
typical conception of achievement." 

That is it. In the New Commonwealth the butcher will be 
conscious and satisfied that *' the essential thing is, not that he 
shall have a living, but that meat shall be supplied." The 
work of the citizen will be the glad performance of so- 
cial office, not, as now, the mere tribute to physical necessity. 
lie will be a moral worker, whose best efi"orts, best ardor and 



MOEALS. 245 

highest aims will be drawn out by the joy which he takes in 
his work — in all but the lowest work, such routine, manual 
labor as machinery should remove altogether from human 
hands. He will soon be habituated to regard his wages, not 
as a (/lad pro gz<o, but as amoral claim, as the provision made 
by Society to enable him to carry on his labor. The question: 
'^why should I do honest work?'' will «/ien seem just as ir- 
rational as it is now to ask " why should I eat? " 

Most of the offences to which we have called attention will 
disappear, simply because the opportunities for committing 
them will be gone. 

And when in the Coming Commonwealth a few hours of 
daily, agreeable effort will secure to everybody all necessaries, 
decencies and comforts of life, why then should any rational 
being want to steal or cheat or rob ? And why should anybody 
want to make a living by crime, when it will be far easier to 
make it by honest work? And why should anybody care to 
procure wealth dishonestly, when wealth no longer will mean 
Poioer overmen? When wealth will not be able to coax the 
meanest of men to be your footman and wear your livery? 
When wealth simply will mean more to eat, more to drink and 
more luxuries? 

In short, the economic system of the Xew Commonwealth 
will have two most important eff'ects on integrity. First, it will 
institute a higher moral code by giving us a truer conception of 
what is ''right" and "'wrong" conduct. It will thus make 
us feel that the man who charges six per cent., or even one 
per cent, for the use of his money is just as much a criminal, 
in principle, as the highway-robber ; that is, it will once more 
make us call all interest-charge usury. 

Secondly, it will absolutely reverse motives. Instead of the 
present Society saying ; '• help thyself or go to jail! " the fu- 
ture Society will help everybody by removing all temptation 
to do what is wrong. 

Here we hear some well-fed, well-clad personage exclaim : 
"So we are to have only negative virtues in your Common- 
wealth ! " 

Only negative virtues ? Let us recall what Beecher said of 



24 G MORALS. 

himself: '' I am on too high a plane to be affected by any 
temptation to steal." Of course he is ! With a yearly salary 
of $20,000 there is for him every temptation to refrain from steal- 
ing. Is his then anytiiing but a '' negative " virtue ? He should 
not, like the pharisee of old, speak so superciliously of his 
•'lofty plane," until he was in want of the necessaries and de- 
cencies of life, with no honest way open to him to procure 
them. We have in the foregoing seen what the ''lofty plane" 
of his congregation amoums to; their principal virtue per- 
haps consists in hating so heartily the offences of other people, 
not in their set. 

The difference between our so called "virtuous" and '"vi- 
cious" classes is far more a difference of temptation than of 
virtue. The virtuous i)erson can pride himself on very little 
else than negative virtues; he is virtuous because everything 
tempts him to be virtuous. Even so we want everybody, even 
the meanest of men, to be tempted, and the Coming Common- 
wealth will so tempt all. 

Now we pass over to sympathy^ the crown of Morals. 

VV^e have frequently throughout this work had occasion to 
quote from Herbert Spencer. The reason is, that he is truly 
the most profound of recent English philosophers, that his 
influence on all liberal minds in our country has been very 
great, and that we cannot conceive of au}^ better way of prop- 
agating socialist ideas than to show them to be the logical out- 
come of the best modern thoughts. And Spencer's later phil- 
osophy is really socialist. The best socialist lessons can be 
drawn from his latest work : " Data of Ethics," and especially 
from the chapter on Sympathy. 

Sympathy is /eZZoi^-/eeh';i^. To sympathize is to make the 
pleasure and pain of our fellows our own; the former we do 
willingly, the latter unwillingly. We naturally sympathize 
with pleasant, joyful people; we with difficulty sympathize 
with sorrowful and miserable persons. Anyone can easily 
convince himself of the truth of this, by one day attending a 
funeral and the next day a wedding. 

It is therefore but natural that sympathy grows, if those 



MORALS. 247 

around us habitually manifest pleasure and but rarely pain, 
while it decreases, if we ordinarily witness little pleasure and 
much pain. It is also natural that sympathy at present grows 
but little, since the life usually led under our present conditions 
is such that sufiering is daily inflicted or daily displayed by 
associates. 

And please observe that sympathy and pity are two greatly 
different things. Sympathy requires equality ; i^ity regards 
the object not only as suffering, but as weak, hence as inferior; 
therefore the distresses of those beneath us excite only the same 
sentimsnt as that with which w^e regard the suffering of an 
over worked cart-horse. It is just because the occasional so- 
called "charities" of the wealthy have their motive in pity 
and not in sympathy, that they lack all moral value, though 
the following remarks of Prof. Adler are also true: *• Of 
what avail would it be if one of the members of the great 
monopoly wiiich I have recently described were to found an 
orphan asylum or to build a hospital? Should we really be 
willing to clap hands as many are supposed to do and cry. Oh, 
how charitable the man is 1 Why, he has not begun to give 
back to society what he has taken from it in the first instance, 
much less that he should claim credit to himself for his char- 
itableness." In such cases "■ charity " is nothing but hush- 
money. 

And for the very reason that there can be no sympathy with- 
out equality, we in a former chapter denounced the subjection 
of employe to employer as demoralizing. We now wish to 
speak of a relation than which nothing in the present consti- 
tution of Society is more essentially vicious and morally in- 
jurious : the relation of domestic servants to their '• masters " 
and '* mistresses." We called the wage-workers' condition 
substantial slavery ; that of servants is servitude in substance 
and form. 

American society has wof ully retrograded in this respect. 
In the beginning of this century Americans spoke of their 
"help;" now it is everywhere "servants!" This is «o« a 
mere difference of words, but involves a degradation in posi- 
tion. The servant drops her surname, a veritable degradation, for 



248 MORALS. 

it marks her as a person henceforth of no social account ; she is 
spoken to only to receive orders ; she abandons family life, an 
ordeal not required by out-door workers ; she is day and nigbt 
subject to the bidding of master and mistress, and may be 
called to accomit for every hour out of the twenty-four. We 
think it very much to the credit of American women, that they 
refuse thus to degrade themselves. They are in pleasing con- 
trast to the so-called "• men " who consent to perform menial 
services for others for — money, or who even with apparent 
satisfaction act as the liveried flunkeys of our money-bags^ 
Our wage-workers at least keep alive the spirit of discontent, 
but who ever imagined that our flunkeys could be rebels? 

We cannot withstand the temptation once more to bring for- 
ward our friend, the uncompromising abolitionist, to point a 
moral. He, by nature the kindest of men, a champion of the 
Eights-of-Man theory, once commended the English men-ser- 
vants compared wdth American specimens and said : " when 
I pay a man to be a servant, I want him to be a servant." 
Suppose a slave-holder once upon a time had said in his hear- 
ing : ''I bought him for a slave and I want him to be a slave " 
what would he have thought of such an argument? Thus 
this system of rich and poor, of master and servant, demoral- 
izes the best of us, for it nourishes our ''love of lording it," 
which is the greatest obstacle to the growth of sympathy. 

It is, moreover, evident that the insolent individualism which 
is the moving power of our present industrial system necessa- 
rily stifles all sympathetic sentiments. It incites men to pur- 
sue their individual happiness in complete indiff*erence to their 
fellows. When Herbert Spencer was here, he told us that he 
had observed, that Americans do not resent small trespasses. 
Why, if any passer-by would resent having to force his tortu- 
ous way on sidewalks, crowded with boxes, or having his face 
and clothes covered with the sweepings from our stores, he 
would make himself ridiculous ! Spencer got the cart before 
the horse. Every individual here is a sovereign and ssys like 
Vanderbilt: ''[the dear public be damned!" — and acts accord- 
ingly. 

Sympathy however lias proven itself a far stronger force 



MORALS. 249 

than individualism. The views we now hold on the subject 
of Slavery compared with those held by the good and wise of 
old prove the growth of sympathy daring the whole historic 
period of man. And please mark, that even dining this indi- 
vidualistic, sceptical age, in which integrity has so wofully 
deteriorated, sympathy has constantly been on the increase. 
The evidences thereof are on every side. Look at all the hu- 
mane institutions in every nook and corner of our land— asy- 
lums and hospitals for every sort of misfortune and malady. 
Consider how ready men were to inflict bodily tortures a couple 
of centuries back and how anxious we now are to avoid doing 
so. Think of the penal code of medieval England and contrast 
therewith our treatment of criminals. Observe finally the rel- 
ative frequenc}'" of the crimes themselves : while crimes 
against property have notoriously increased, those of brutality 
and passion have just as evidently grown less as well in num- 
ber as in atrocity. 

Just as we did not have to go very far to look for the reason 
of the backward state of integrity, so the reasons for the growth 
of sympathy are easy to find. Pain has been constantly on 
the decrease and pleasure as constantly on the increase; that 
is to say, we are much better clad, sheltered and fed than our 
ancestors were ; many plagues which decimated our forefathers 
during the Middle Ages have been entirely extirpated ; many 
others of their diseases have been considerably alleviated. 
Thus, again, we find our principal proposition substantiated, 
that it is material prosperity that is the basis for all improve- 
ment, that economic relations are the foundation of even the 
highest form of morals. 

And in this conquest of sympathy over individualism we have 
another evidence, of the most convincing force, that we are irre- 
sistably drifting towards Socialism. Why, even Spencer foresees 
"an advanced social state where the manifestations of pleas- 
ure predominate and where sympathy, therefore, will reach a 
height that we cannot now imagine." 

And what land of '' advanced social state " has Spencer here 
hi his mind ? Hear him ! 

••'The citizens of a large nation, industnally organized^ have 



250 MORALS. 

readied their possible ideal of happiness when the producing, 
distributing and other activities are such, that each citizen 
finds in them a place for all his energies and aptitudes while 
he obtains the means of satisfying all his desires. 

''And we can imagine the eventual existence of a commu- 
nity where, in addition, the members are characterized by em- 
inent aBsthetic faculties, and achieve complete happiness only, 
when a large part of life is filled by sesthetic activities." 

In these w^ords Spencer, on whom the word "Socialism" 
probably has the same effect that a red cloth has on any healthy 
bull, has drawn an admirable picture of — a Socialist State, 
our Cooperative Commonwealth. 

For in the Commonwealth that we have sketched in the pre- 
ceding pages everybody will certainly find '' a place for all 
his energies and aptitudes" and obtain ''means of satisfying 
all his desires." 

In that Commonwealth ignorance and uncleanliness will dis- 
appear. Even so bodily pains, for we may be sure that med- 
ical science and, especially, a developed public hygiene will 
very soon have reduced physical suffering to a minimum. 

In that Commonwealth will be found that necessary condi- 
tion of sympathy which Spencer ignores : substantial^ perhaps 
absolute, equality. The relation then, corresponding to our 
"domestic service," will at all events be a moral— a sympathetic 
relation : that is, domestics will be incorporated in the family, 
as members of it. No one then, surely, will be so slavish as to 
accept the position on less honorable terms. 

"Is the man crazy?" some will here exclaim, " no one to 
black our boots, brush our clothes, sweep our rooms, attend 
us at meals, nurse our children ! No one to look after our com- 
fort ! No one to answer, when we call 'Pat,' ' John ' and ' Bridg- 
et ! ' That will be a nice sort of life, indeed ! " 

We really think youwillhave to " look after your comfort " 
yourself; most of your fellowmen, many of them far more 
w^orthy than you, now have to do that. At the public places, of 
course, you can have all your wants supplied and yourself at- 
tended to, but mark ! by persons, as much public functionaries 
as you yourself will be, and conscious of being so, and 



MORALS. 251 

whom you cannot familiarly call "Ben" or "John," ex- 
cept on an equal footing. But at home you will have to be 
"served" by members of your family and such people whom 
your personal qualities will attach to your person. 

That Commonwealth, we insist, will be Spencer's " advanced 
social state " where sympathy will attain such a growth, that 
we now hardly can conceive of it ; for we firmly believe with 
John S. Mill, that " the preseut wretched social arrangements 
are the only hindrances to the attainment by almost all of an 
existence, made up of a few and transitory pains and many and 
various pleasures." 

We have already considered some of the fruits of that high- 
er morality which thus will be the natural outcome of better 
economic conditions. We may now add that not only 
crimes against property, v/hich we discussed under the head 
of "integrity," but all forms of crime will probably be prac- 
tically unknown 

Crime, in all its forms, is an evidence of the neglected re- 
sponsibilities of Society, exactly as the plagues of the Middle 
Ages were the proofs that the laws of health were disregard- 
ed. Xow we have a daily birth of so many infants, so imbed- 
ded in criminality, that you might lay your hands on each and 
say, that if not rescued by something akin to a miracle, this 
child is, inevitably, destined to a criminal career. It is a sad 
reflection that infanticide would in their cases be absolute mer- 
cy ! Yet the State stands by with folded arms, cares not a 
straw for them, permitting them to be trained to crime, fur- 
nishing them even temptations, until it catches them with its 
implacable arms and— strangles them. For mark ! children 
and young persons — and old persons, too, for that matter — 
are led into a criminal career from precisely the same reasons 
that keep proper people from such a career : temptation, ex- 
ample and love of approbation. 

The New Order will do away with crimes against property — 
" legitimate," such as the law now takes no notice of, as well 
as " illegitimate " — by tempting all the right way. It will do 
away with crimes of brutality and passion by its thorough 
education and exalted sympathy. For this class of crimes 



252 MORALS. 

does, certainly, depend upon the " plane " up to which one 
has been educated. As to such crimes Beecher might, with 
propriety, say of himself, that he is on too high a plane ever 
to be tempted to commit them, though a given occasion 
might prove, that he was mistaken even in that. In other 
words, criminals will be found to be what all socalled '' nui- 
sances " at bottom are : useful matter in wrong places. 

Of course, for the first few generations the N'ew Order will 
still have some criminals on its hands. In order to show, that 
Socialists are not influenced by any peculiar sentimentality in 
favor of criminals, let us state that we perfectly agree with 
Herbert Spencer, who would give convicts the barest of boards 
to rest on and nothing but cold water to support themselves 
on, until they force themselves — by an internal coercion which 
they can carry with them out of prison — to work for their 
necessaries of life and whatever comforts they desire, with- 
out subjecting them to any unnecessary pain and degradation 
as now they are subjected to. Bat that, also, can only be prop- 
erly accomplished in the New Commonwealth, where convict 
labor will become an integral part of the cooperative labor of 
Society. Convicts will there,certainly, not be utilized by con- 
tractors to paste leather and pasteboard together to make a 
thick sole impose upon the public, as is said not to be unfre- 
quently the case now. 

But the most glorious fruit of this higher morality, the one 
that ought to be most highly prized, will be this : that a com- 
plete accord, a perfect conciliation, will at last be effected be- 
tween two hitherto irreconcilable sentiments, self-love on the 
one hand, and regard for our fellow-citizens and the public on 
the other. 

We have several times impressed upon our readers the fact 
that Socialists take human nature as it is and we have claimed 
that to be one of their greatest merits. It will also have been 
noticed that our Commonwealth is built on self-love in robust 
vigor as on its corner-stone. Every man is necessarily his 
own centre, we hold ; he can, as has been said, no more 
displace himself from self-interest than he can leap off his 
own shadow. 



MORALS. 253 

N"ow we already have, as Spencer has observed, instances 
of complete accord between self-love and love for others. We 
find it in the relation of a mother to her child and of the lov- 
ing husband to his wife. 

Is the mother who is watching day and night over her sick 
child and thereby imperilling her own health devoid of self- 
love? Is it not the fact that she is exactly gratifying herself 
in acting as she does? 

Go to the bottom and you will find that her sacrifice is made 
from a direct desire to make it, is made to satisfy an egoistic 
sentiment or craving, and the strength of that egoistic senti- 
ment is shown in a peculiarly strong light by the adoption of 
children by the childless. 

In the same manner the husband is truly egoistic, when he 
makes sacrifices for the beloved wife. 

Kow, in the Cooperative Commonwealth, where perfect har- 
mony will obtain between the interests of each citizen and 
those of the citizens at large, just as it now obtains between 
the members of a well-ordered family, there the final develop- 
ment of sympathy will in time merge self-love and regard for 
our fellow citizens into a concord, kindred to that between 
husband and wife and parent with children. A kindred con- 
cord we say, not exactly a like concord. 

We shall gain pleasure by giving pleasure, but we shall not 
be thinking of the sympathetic pleasure gained, but only of 
that given. W^e even shall in the New Commonwealth will- 
ingly and with supreme satisfaction do acts of true self-sacri- 
Uce. The explanation of that seeming contradiction is, that 
cases involving self-sacrifice will in that Commonwealth be- 
come so rare and therefore so highly prized, that they will be 
unhesitatingly preferred and not at all felt as self-sacrificing 
acts ; just as we even now sometimes hear it said of some- 
body : "'' Let him take the trouble : it pleases him to do so." 

It will from all this be seen that we by no means want to 
"reform" men. We do not claim that under Socialism men 
or women will be any better than they now are or ever have 
been. We want to reform their surroundings^ the constitution 



254 MOEALS. 

of Society, the mould, in which tlieir lives, thoughts and feel- 
inpfs are cast. 

Socialists want to make it the interest of all to he honest, to 
make it to the advantage of all to furnish their hest work, 
tomake It natural for men to love their neighbors as themselves. 

Socialists want all to be able to take a delight in life for its 
own sake and in everything that ministers to it, and that is the 
Old of morals. 

'' Yes, it is well enough to enable people to take delight in 
this life. Hut it is related of Samuel Johnson, that he once 
exclaimed on being shown over a magnificent estate : ' Aye, 
sir ! these are the things that make death bitter.' It is vain 
to bid men exclude the thought of immortality from their minds, 
and think only of making the best of this life and that is what 
we understand Socialists mean them to do. We understand 
that Socialists mean to drive religion entirely out of the 
world." 

You misunderstand us, friend ! We do not propose to drive 
religion out of human life. But what is religion?" 

It is with '' religion "' as with ••' democracy ; " to revert to the 
foreign words from which they are derived helps us very little 
to get at the essence of what we mean when we use these 
terms. According to its derivation " religion " means the res- 
toration of a broken bond, it is understood, between earth and 
heaven. Now, that there is a broken bond to restore, was 
a fact to our forefathers ; at present it is to all but simple- 
minded people a theologic fiction. If, however, by " relig- 
ion " you mean this dogmatic theology, Socialists do propose 
to help drive it out. Socialism is the inveterate foe of theolo- 
gy — a fact of which the pope is well aware, wherefore he is 
perfectly right in damning it — because Socialism is abreast 
with the highest intelligence of the time, and the highest in- 
telligence of all progressive countries is at issue with w^hat, 
only by a stretch of courtesy, may be called the popular re- 
ligion. This, we hold, is a most mischievous state of affairs, 
fatal to sincerity, and creating, on the one hand, in the masses 
of the people a chilling, conceited scepticism in regard to 



MOEALS. 255 

everything that cannot be touched or handled, or giving rise, 
on the other hand, to sickly spiritual hallucinations. All that 
in the future will be needed to drive this theology entirely out 
of human life is to continue that '" Titanic laughter — thai ter- 
rible, side-shaking, throne-and-altar-shaking laughter'' — which 
Kabelais started. 

That which is now meant by '"• religion " is the view we hold 
of our relation to the great mystery which is all around us, 
in time as well as in ?pace, and the awe we naturally feel when 
we think of it. We do not propose to drive religion in 
that sense out of the world, because it cannot be done, even 
if Ave wanted to. Comte tried it and only succeeded in doing 
what children do who are afraid of the darkness : they pull 
the bedclothes over their heads and pretend there is no dark- 
ness beyond. Nor are Socialists, like the men of the French 
Revolution, going to commit such puerile follies, as either to 
decree a deitj^ out of existence or decree him back again. 

But there is not the least doubt that just as the new econo- 
mic system will greatly modify the family-relation, education 
and morals, so it will mightily affect religion, as we have now 
defined it. For, please mark this important fact, that as mor- 
als and education are the fruits of our economic relations, so 
religion is the fruit of our morals and education. The latter 
are primary : our gods are but the reflections of our moral and 
intellectual state. The religion of a nation is the outcome of 
its highest intelligence in its most solemn moments. 

It cannot be denied that the idea of immortality has hitherto 
been an integral element of everything that deserves the name 
of religion, that our whole race has and has had a deep and 
secret longing for life beyond the grave. This longing may be 
due to the fact that this world was to the masses a veritable 
** vale of tears ; " it has at all events been fostered by Cathol- 
icism and other so-called "religious," whose whole strength 
consisted in offering a consolation to people who felt misera- 
ble here. It is just possible that when men all live to a good 
old age and get out of this life all the delights which nature 
permits, that this longing itself will disappear. But this long- 



256 MORALS. 

ing does exist in the breast of mankind at present, and is no- 
where stronger than in the Anglo-Saxon race. 

j^ow, whether this longing for and belief in immortality is 
to be a part of the religion of the future is impossible to fore- 
see. We can only say with Prof. Goldwin Smith : 

'' Suspense of judgment and refusal to accept the unknown 
as known is the natural frame of mind for any one who has 
followed the debate mth an unprejudiced understanding and 
who is resolved to be absolutely loyal to truth. To such a 
one existence is an unfothomable and overwhelming mystery. 
But let not this suspense of judgment intimate a negative de- 
cision. For a negative decision the hour has certainly not yet ar- 
rived^ especially as the world has hardly yet had time to draw 
breath after the bewildering rush of physical discovery." 

We may also add, that Science knows as yet next to noth- 
ing about the Mind ; there are, however, great promises in 
that direction in the near future. It is by studying the dis- 
turbances of Nature, that Science has succeeded in penetrat- 
ing some ot her inmost mysteries, and even so it is by watch- 
ing the disturbances of the mind, that Science already has given 
us glimpses of hitherto unknown powers of the mind. Thus 
by the studj^ of cataleptic patients it has already been demon- 
strated, that the Mind has extraordinary capacities, independ- 
ent of the orderly agency of its bodily machinery, and that its 
perceptions in that condition are as much realities as those of 
its ordinary condition. It is impossible to say, what light may 
not be thrown on the question of personal immortality, when 
once this rich mine has been worked out by Science ; then ''the 
hour may have come for a decision," one way or the other. 
It seems however to us, that the thought of living a thousand 
years hence somewhere with personal identity unimpared, 
is so rapturous and so inspiring that mankind will not feel in- 
clined to relinquish it until Science lays down its veto. 

But whatever may be the fate of the immortality-theory, 
we can be pretty sure that our race will again be practically 
unanimous on some religion, as they will be on all important 
matters. They probably will never know whether they 
have found the objective truth or not. but that is not of 



MORALS. 257 

first importance, for observe that religion is subjective^ is the 
human view of tlie mystery and our relation to it ; if the mys- 
tery is ever revealed it will cease to be an object of religion. 
But some theory of life is needed to give harmony, purpose 
and vigor to active life, and they will certainly agree on such 
a theory as will explain the mystery to them and satisfy their 
highest intelligence. This is not the place to state the thoughts 
which the writer of this has on that subject. 

Let us only say that this future religion will make this world 
a real one. The existing religions fail to satisfy mankind 
especially because they inculcate that this present existence 
is vain and that all the affairs of this world are petty and worth- 
less ; that some other world is the real one. 

The religion of the future, besides, will lay special stress on 
our interdependence ; it will teach men that the only w^ay in 
which they can enter into vital relations with the Great Mystery 
is through Humanity ; Socialism, in other words, will elevate 
religion from being a narrow personal concern between the in- 
dividual and his maker into a social concern between Humanity 
and its Destiny. Humanity will not become a god, as Comte 
would have it, but the mediator between man and the Mystery. 
When at some time you are lying sleepless in bed in the solemn 
hours of the night, do what I often have done : project your- 
self into space and fancy the insignificant little planet which 
is our dwelling place roiling swiftly past you, swarnaing with 
its ant-colonies of kings and beggars, capitalists and workers, 
all in the hollow of the hand of that Great Mystery ! Is not 
that a train of thought that should make manifest to us the 
*' solidarity," the interdependence of mankind? What is more 
natural than that each of us should desire and try to help our 
species along on the road to its destiny, since the ability has 
mercifully been granted to us to cooperate with that Will of 
liie Lniverse vviucU our own nature suggests to us. 

Who can then deny that Socialists are religious in the high- 
est sense of the world ? Our creed can be expressed in these 
words of the preacher of Village Politics ; 

^' The modern Christ would be a politician. His aim would 
be to raise the whole platform of modern society. He would 



258 MOEALS. 

not try to make the poor contented with a lot in which they 
cannot be much better than savages or brutes. He would 
work at the destruction of caste, which is the vice at the root 
of all our creeds and institutions. He would not content him- 
self with denouncing sin as merely spiritual evil; he would 
go into its economic causes, and destroy the flower by cutting, 
at the roots — poverty and ignorance. He would accept the 
truths of science, and he would teach that a man saves his soul 
best by helping his neighbor." 



CHAPTER XIII. 



THE COMING REVOLUTION, 



" Be careful, sirs ! how you judge God's revolutions as the 
products of man's inventions." — Oliver Cromwell. 

'' The Eevolution is a work of the Unknown. Call it good 
or bad, as you yearn towards the Future or the Past." 

Victor Hugo. 

" Twas but the ruin of the bad, 
The wasting of the wrong and ill, 
Whate'er of good the old time had 
Was living still." 

Whittier. 

We commenced this book by quoting these words from a 
dialogue in " The Nineteenth Century : " 

"We see that political systems in all progressive societies 
tend toward socialistic democracy. We see everywhere that 
it must come to that. We all of us feel this conviction, or all 
of us, I suppose, who have reflected on the matter. We feel, 
too, that nothing we can do can avert or possibly long delay 
the consummation. Then, we must believe that the movement 
is being guided, or is guiding itself, to happy issues." 

We now add the response immediately following, from the 
same dialogue : 

'' Hope that the inevitable may prove the ultimately desirable, 



260 THE COMING REVOLUTION. 

but act towards it in public affairs as you do in private, i. e. — 
ignore it altogether!-'' 

It is, of course, two of '-our best people" who thus dis- 
course. The one who warns his friend that the political sys- 
tems of all progressive countries are drifting towards " social- 
istic '' democracy is uncommonly far-seeing and candid. He 
is undoubtedly right ; the simple fact that household-suffrage 
was introduced in his country under Tory auspices proves it. 
But he is not profound enough. Political phenomena are mere- 
ly the straws on the surface that show the direction of the cur- 
rent. That all the tendencies are and, especially, that the un- 
dercurrent is towards Socialism, towards Social-Cooperation, 
is the principal proposition of these pages. 

Of the surface-tendencies there are, moreover, several of 
more significance than the political symptoms. Such are : the 
success of our common-school system and the efforts in other 
" progressive societies " by the State for the education of the 
masses; the fact that, though " Individualism " is rampant 
enough, practically, as a doctrine it is declining in the Protes- 
tant countries that gave it birth, and that the sects that were 
its apostles are now of next to no influence ; and, most signifi- 
cant of all, the remarkable growth of fellow-feeling among 
the masses, due to the concentration of the workers in our 
cities, for there man meets man and spirit quickens spirit and 
intercourse breeds sympathy, and sympathy combination and 
enthusiasm, while the agriculturists remain comparatively un- 
sympathetic and weak on account of their isolated situation. 

But the undercurrent Is the decisive factor. We mean the 
force that is unfolding the material, the industrial relations of 
life. Already Goethe remarked of animals that subordination 
and difference of parts is the measure of the height of their 
organization ; we have learned that precisely the same applies 
to the social organization. This undercurrent manifests itself 
in the concentration of manufactures, of transportation, of 
commerce, and in the rise of large farms ; in short, in the growth 
of monopolies. These, however, furnish us no halting place. 
For while these monopolies, on the one hand, have immense- 
ly increased tiie productivity of labor, they have on the other 



THE COMING REVOLUTION. 261 

hand, been unable to furnish the requisite effective demand. 
However paradoxical it seems the resulthas been, that our large 
accessions of wealth and comfort have created an extended 
sense of unhappiness.' As a consequeuce the undercurrent 
carries us beyond individual monopolies and calls forth the 
popular cry for collective control of material interests, first 
of all, of telegraphs and railways. 

Now right here this current meets another, a parallel current : 
that which has been propelling the State unwillingly, in oppo- 
sition to all received theories, to take charge of one social ac- 
tivity, after another ; a tendency that perhaps can be made 
clear in no better manner than by stating that the national ex- 
penses of England were in 1841 forty times as great as in 1685, 
while the population had only trebled— of England where the 
doctrine of '' let alone " has had undisputed authority I 

How the exercise of national authority has been extended in 
our country in the last generation we have already noted, and 
we are convinced that this centralization so-called would have 
beenjustasirresistible,thoughperhapsslower,iftheDemocratic 
party had been in power— look at the alacrity with whicli tha 
Democrats vote for appropriations for rivers and harbors ! The 
proposition of such an astute politician as Blaine to make the 
National Government the fiscal agent of the States and the deep 
impression it has made is another sign of the times. But our 
civil war, of course, was the giant step of our social evolution, 
and it is very dificult to decide, whether its main issue, the 
Union, or its side issue. Slavery, will prove of most importance. 
All other progressive countries, however, have kept pace with 
us. The struggles for nationality everywhere have mightily 
advanced the evolution of the social organism. Even the 
enormous standing armies of the European continent do this, 
as does everything that drills the masses as a whole and that 
teaches the people to work in concert. Why, it is through the 
German standing army that the German peasant has become 
accessible to Socialist ideas ! 

Buckle lays it down that " the movements of nations are 
I)erfectly natural; like others, they are determined solely by 
their antecedents." We may, in passing, remark that the fact 



262 THE COMING REVOLUTION. 

that tills view is now the generally adopted one, the faet that 
the law of evolution has been discovered and recognized as 
governing also Societies, is itself an important step of the so- 
cial evolution. In the light of that philosophy it is easy to 
see that our whole civilization has been a lesson in cooperatiou, 
that slavery was the first lesson, that serfdom was the second, 
that our present wage-system is but a modified form of the 
latter, and that social-cooperation, StateCooperation^ Socialism^ 
is to be the system of the future, for this idea is in harmony 
with all antecedents and all our surroundings, and our whole 
age cooperates with it. 

However, there is something else of importance to be noted. 
Herbert Spencer, as we have seen, is one with us in holding 
that Society will in the course of evolution arrive at "■ an ad- 
vanced social state." But, besides shutting his eyes complete- 
ly to the growing influence of the collective authority, he holds 
that this evolution is a purely blind natural force. Virtually 
he teaches : " Do not try to do anything at all; it is simply 
folly. In the first i^lace, you cannot do anything; and, next, 
any eff^ort on your part is unnecessary; if you only let things 
alone, they will come out all right of themselves sometime 
in tJie far distant future.'''' It is no wonder that this indolent 
optimism does not attract the masses. How can Spencer have 
any sympathy with his fellowmen? What gospel has he or 
have his disciples for the poor, the suffering and oppressed? 
The greatest objection, however, to this scientific fatalism is 
that it is unsound^ fallacious. 

The fact is, that, though Society is truly an organism, the 
evolution of Society does not take place precisely like the 
growth of plants or animals. The former is the result of ef- 
forts consciously put forth ; the progress of man requires the 
cooperation of men. Therefore, while Buckle's view, that the 
movements of nations depend upon their antecedents is true, it 
is not the whole truth ; it must be supplemented by Carlyle's 
idea, that " the history of what man has accomplished is at 
bottom the history of the great men who have worked here." 
Again it is true that an idea, to be successful, must be in har- 
mony with surrounding conditions, and yet, that is not enough : 



THE COMING REVOLUTION. 263 

it must also be incarnated^ so to speak,— made alive — in men 
and women. Tliere must be a few people, at least, who care 
a great deal about the idea and who feel a resistless impulse 
towards its propagation. 

Hence we add, that perhaps the most important part of the 
evolution is the fact that there are Socialists in the loorld at the 
present time^ that there are resolute men and women, intelli- 
gent representatives of all classes, who are determined to lead 
the world into the new channels ! The most precious product 
of the evolution, therefore, we say, is that practical and ener- 
getic band, consisting less of dreamers than any number of 
men hitherto concerned in any great movement, and yet fired 
with an ideal that makes people forget their national antip- 
athies — what even Christianity has been powerless to do! 
The pledge of success precisely are these men and women 
who act as if the fortunes of the world depended on their per- 
sonal endeavors, proudly conscious that the fortunes of the 
world have depended on the struggles of just such men as they / 

One such man — a man with a faith — is a social power, equal 
to 999 who have only interests. 

The distinguishing trait of Socialists is that they boldly aim 
at a revolution and care not a jot about reforms. 

We know that good people now-a-days shudder at the mere 
whisper of the word "revolution." It was not always so. 
There was a time when the eyes of patriots sparkled when- 
ever "The American Revolution " was spoken ; there was a 
time when " The English Revolution " sounded tolerably well 
in polite ears. Now the term " revolution " seems to suggest 
nothing but blood and destruction and violence. Yet, it means 
nothing of the kind. It simply denotes a complete change, the 
vigorous adaptation of old social elements to new conditions, 
most orderly, but effecting vast and permanent alterations. 
That is what all philosophic Socialists mean by a revolution. 
Their red flag has no relation to blood, or if it has, certainly 
not to cold clotted blood but the blood that courses warm and 
throbbing through the veins of qyqyj youth and maiden. 
But " reforms " only attack abuses, and in this are just as un- 
scientific and stupid as bleeding for a fever in olden times 



264 THE COMING REVOLUTION. 

was; both being simply crude methods of suppressinof symp- 
toms. How can any one " reform" away abuses that are in- 
herent in the system ! Reforms even often do immense mischief: 
they open the safety-valves and thereby render evils tolerable 
for the moment, but it is well to bear in mind that evil 
" evolves " as well as good. 

The Coming Bevolution is the new social force which will so 
act on the constitution of Society that the old withered husks 
are cast off. permitting the social butterfly to emerge from its 
chrysalis state. 

For Spencer is wrong again, when he places his " advanced 
social state " in the very distant future, and teaches that the 
progress of Society is altogether accomplished by slow, very 
slow, gradual stages. Historic experience does not at all 
bear him out ; it tells us. on the other hand, that when a so- 
cial order has once been attained, there is first a period, quite 
a long period, of virtual stagnation, then Society begins to 
move slowly (the stage on which Spencer has wholly fixed 
his attention,) followed by an advance, constantly increasing 
in velocity — the nineteenth century is a good illustration of 
this stage, for are we not moving along in every department 
with railroad speed? — last of all, the decisive change to a new 
social system is accomplished almost before the living gener- 
ation can recover its breath. 

Will this New Social Order be " a happy issue?" 

That is really a consideration of secondary importance and 
will perhaps be answered differently according to the stand- 
point one occupies. To our money-bags, prominent politicians, 
prominent law3^ers, who now lord it over us ; to '' independ- 
ent," overbearing, domineering " Philistines," buoyed 
up at the top, it will probably not seem a very " happy issue," 
looking at it through spectacles, colored b}^ their class-inter- 
ests, as they do. For the very gist of the Coming Revolu- 
tion ^ill consist in unseating them, in abrogating their vested 
rights, the divine right which they have been taught that they 
have to the fruits of the labor of other people. It will abol- 
ish " freedom " as they practise it, that is, the right to do what 
they please and to make others do as they (the 'independent ") 



THT COMING E EVOLUTION. 265 

please. But to the great multitude it will be, we should say, 
a happy issue, for it will put au end to their subjection and put 
interdepuidence — genuine freedom — in its place. And if we 
consider the welfare of die social organism there can be no 
doubt about the New System being a happy issue. Instead 
of the quackery, charlatanism, amateurship which now bears 
sway in all activities of Society we shall have skill, compe- 
tence and qualifiedness (if we may coin a word) at the head 
of affairs, and indeed from top to bottom. Why, the main 
reasons why the workers will dismiss those who " rule" us 
now, is the very fact that they have proved themselves inca- 
pable of ^'' governing,'' of administering affairs. The anarchy 
which now obtains, the discontent of the masses, our crises, 
our bankruptcies are all so many proofs of their incapacity, 
imbecility and ignorance. And most important of all, instead 
of being a crou-6?, not able even to keep our streets clean, we 
shall have organization, instead of gregariousness we shall have 
association; instead of everybody pursuing his individual pet- 
ty interests absolutely indifferent, and often hostile, to the 
interests of Society, everybody will instinctively be con- 
scious ot himself as a being who, of course^ considers the so- 
cial welfare in his every act. 

We can be sure that the Coming Eevolution will not destroy 
an atom of what is really good now. We can be sure that it 
does not mean destruction as much as upbuilding. We can be 
sure that should anybody thereafter seriously propose to go 
back to the present Social Order, he will be laughed at as a 
fool, lit for the lunatic asylum. 

But — " ignore it altogether ! " 

Those who are now at the head of affairs affecting — to ignore ! 
That is a dangerous policy. Those who loill not see become in 
time those who cannot see. Think of '' leaders " who wilfully 
shut their eyes, and advise '» ignore it altogether ! " of' states- 
men " with the motto : "• after us the deluge ! " 

So however, it has always been. '' Force has been the mid- 
wife at the birth of every [N'ew Order." But the responsibili- 
ty be on our incapable "" leaders ! " 



26C THE COMING REVOLUTION. 

Meanwhile the evolution of society marches forward in 
spite ot all stumbling-blocks ; one moment quietly in the brain 
of the thinker, the next moment unmercifully over corpses! 
But it does not want blood. On the contrary, it sends warn- 
ing in advance of every catastrophe. Woe to those who do 
not heed that warning! 

As yet, and first of all, it is a contest of ideas. We aim to 
put the Socialist ideas into the minds of the people, knowing 
that if it be there actions will follow fast enough. However, as 
was intimated in the Introduction, the writer of this does not 
expect that the majority can possibly be won over. 

The majority are always ignorant, always indolent ; you can- 
not ex]3ect them to be anything else with their present so- 
cial surroundings. They never have brought about, conscious- 
ly and deliberatel}'", any great social change. Thay always 
have permitted an energetic minority to accomplish that for 
them, and then — they always have sanctioned the accomplish- 
ed fact. 

That our people is no exception was proven by the aboli- 
tion of slavery. That was accomplished by the emancipation 
proclamation of Lincoln who was egged on to issue it by an 
energetic minority; when it was accomplished, the people 
sanctioned it by amending their constitution ; though even 
now, as a matter of course, "prominent" lawyers can be 
found who verily believe, that said proclamation was not worth 
the paper it is written on. 

This, then, is our objective point : a respectable minority ; re- 
spectable as to numbers ; respectable as representing the most 
advanced intelligence; respectable as containing sincere 
and energetic representatives from all classes : the minority 
to reach which these pages are written. Give Socialists such 
a minority — give them only 10,000 such men in, say, twenty 
years from now, in a population of 75 millions, and our coun- 
try and its future is theirs ! 

Socialists are the only social philosophers who can be called 
purposeful^ tlie only ones in the whole wide world Avho can 
dispense with commonplaces and slippery words and phrases 
and who present clear cut, definite solutions. It is, of course, 



THE COMING REVOLUTION. ^ 267 

to the discontented that they address theoiselves; they have 
nothhig- to say to such as think that the world is good enough 
as it is. Neither have they any business with that very large 
class of poor men, clerks especially, who toil on from day to 
day, in the hope of being some day, by some lucky accident, 
rich themselves, so that they in their turn can lord it over oth- 
ers. It is that class particularly that fill the ranks of our 
state-militia and who with alacrity obey the command to shoot 
down such of their fellows as have been goaded on to rebel- 
lion. It is a most contemptible class of men ; the motive that 
leads them is a contemptible one, and yet it is such men who 
are patted on the back by '■'• our best x3eople " and called •' am- 
bitious." 

It is, of course, to the discontented wage-workers that So- 
cialists can appeal with the greatest chance of success. To 
them they can say : 

" Look the future confidently in the face. The golden age 
of which poets have sung has proved a cruel illusion — cruel, 
for as long as it lasted, it served as the greatest stumbling- 
block to your Improvement. In exchange for that will-o-the- 
wisp we give you another, a real Golden Age, at whose thresh- 
old you stand. If you do not enter into it, your children may."" 
It is to the wage-class that the rankest injustice is being done. 
To lay bare that injustice is, first of all, the mission of So- 
cialism, and as Carlyle says: ''Hunger, nakedness, death 
even, may be borne sometimes with cheerfulness, but injustice 
is insupportable to all men." 

To the thoughtful among our small middle-men it ought to 
be easy enough to prove the Socialist State their sole refuge 
from the cares and troubles that now beset them. 

It will not take many years, before the eyes of farmers will 
be opened to the fact that the vast majority of them must neces- 
sarily become tenant-farmers and their farms gobbled up by 
the rich under a system of unrestricted competition. Then we 
undoubtedly can convince some, that Socialism is the only 
system that can secure a civilized life to their descendants. 

And even to many in the professions we can with propriety 
appeal. Indeed, as we already have said, many, if not most 



268 THE COMING REVOLUTION. 

of our literary men, lawyers, physicians, journalists, and last, 
though not least, teachers are among the dis-inherited. Only 
those at the toj) — most of whom are in one way or another the 
retainers of our money-bags — have any motive to side with the 
Established Order. Of course, all aspiring young professional 
men start out with great expectations; but what a grievous 
disappointment does life prove to the great majority of them I 
Before they reach middle age they will have given up all their 
grand plans, and they will consider it the summit of success, 
if they can secure a decent livelihood. Most of them will fail 
lamentably even in that. To my personal knowledge hun- 
dreds of talented persons of that class now live a most pre- 
carious existence, and are glad to sleep at night on the lounge 
in the office of some more successful brother, and do not know 
for certain whether they will have a meal the next day. Such 
a man's refinement has become his curse. 

To such men the Coming Revolution should be just as wel- 
come as to any mechanic or common laborer. How their tal- 
ents would unfold themselves and their energies be roused un- 
der that inspiring emulation which the New Order will inau- 
gurate! Talent, genius and intellect will in our Common- 
v^ealth have their due influence, what they never had before. 

Neither ought it to be very difficult to convince such women 
who take any interest in public affairs and labor tor the ele- 
vation of their sex that no lasting benefit will be conferred 
either on Society or their sisters by making women into sec- 
ond-rate men, and very, very little benefit by their obtaining 
the suffrage in the present state of things ; while it is very much 
to be apprehended that when political '• rights" are minced 
twice as much again as they already are, they will seem and 
in fact become absolutely worthless. Socialism is evidently 
far more capable of elevating the female sex both by ennobling 
the men and by enabling women themselves to assert their 
dignity. 

And everywhere in all conditions of life there are thought- 
ful. geLerous youths who cannot keep wondering attheman- 
ifci^Llj' mijust arrangements of this world. Youths who can- 
not help asking why so many whose work is only nominal 



THE COMING REVOLUTION. 269 

should live in splendor, while those whose daily toil produces 
all that makes existence enjoyable and even possible have such 
a hard struggle for life. Youtlis, who then dream of imi30S- 
sible " remedies " and, like Thomas More in his '* Utopia,'' con- 
struct castles in the air. Youths who by and by, when they 
have been chilled by contact with the cold realities of life un- 
der this Established Order, will come to look back on these 
dreams as mere foolishness ! 

Ah, youths ! *' when those phantoms fade, some portions of 
your better nature will die within you. too I " 

Might we not expect that the eyes of such youths, — and 
even of mature men who have had such dreams awcZ woi/or- 
gotten them — to kindle with enthusiasm, and their hearts to 
heat quicker upon learning that many of their fellows are bent 
with all their energies on making glorious realities out of those 
dreams? As Novalis says : " My belief has gained infinitely 
to me from the moment any other human being has begun to 
believe the same." Why then might we not expect many of 
such men to throw themselves into this movement of ours, as 
soon as they find out ichat it really means? 

It is a slander to say that the American people cannot be 
excited by an ideal, that they only care for the '' Almighcy 
Dollar." Our war of the Revolution was fought for a point 
of honor. The Kebellion was fought for ideas. But small 
ends do not rouse anybody's enthusiasm. Civil service *• re- 
forms" and other '" Utopias" — and small Utopias at that — are 
not likely to make one's blood throb the quicker. To cut off 
each head of an ever-growing hydra as it appears is a tire- 
some process, and will seem an idle, wasteful proceeding to 
any practical mind. But to help evolve a New Social Order 
which is '• struggling — convulsively, desperately struggling — 
to be born " is an end, grand enough to fill the noblest soul with 
the most ardent zeal ! 

And because it is well known what repelling effects mere 
w^ords may have on the minds of men, and because '' Social- 
ism " once had such an eff'ect on the writer himself, we add : 
Let not the consideration frighten you, that it is an " ism !" 
Why, even Christianity was for four hundred years an ''ism." 



270 THE COMING KEVOLUTION. 

Evciy ideal, that is, every " soul of the future " is an " isra " 
as long as it is waiting for its body. When Socialism becomes 
embodied, it leaves its '' ism ■' behind and is realized as the New 
Social order, — Social Cooperation. 

It is for various reasons just such young men as those of whom 
we have spoken, of all classes, that we should try to enroll as 
members of our effective minority and for which I have written 
this book. Elderly people have already made up then- minds — 
indeed the man who has reached forty and has not made up his 
mind may pretty safely be put down as a poor specimen of 
a man. And then there is a weightier reason. . Though there 
is no man living wise enough to say when the Coming Revo- 
lution will occur, we -can say that there is little probability 
that it will occur this century. Now, you cannot ask an elder- 
ly man to prepare for something which he probably will 
not live to witness. You, on the other hand, can with the 
greatest show of success appeal to the ardor and hope and 
sympathy of youth or young men of, say, 30 years to prepare 
for an event in which they may be principal actors when they 
reach ripe manhood. And that is just what that effective minor- 
ity principally will have to do— prepare, prepare themselves and 
their people for the Great Change. Not, as we already said in 
thelntroduction, to TOaA;e any revolution, but to make them- 
selves, and the Nation as much as possible, ready for the Com- 
ing Revolution, to meet it when it comes, peaceably or " clad in 
iron sandals" and to carry it out. To accomplish this, the 
first thing needed is organization, next, organization, and, last- 
ly, organization, in order that they may become perfectly ac- 
quainted with each other, come to have confidence in each 
other, and study together the great philosophy and the means 
of realizing it. That minority ought, indeed, to come to a 
unanimous agreement as to every principal step that must be 
taken to make the Cooperative Commonwealth a success from 
the very start and until it is in full working order. 

And they should also, as we said, as much as possible pre- 
pare their countrymen. They should continually keep — not 
themselves, mark you ! — but their cause before the people. 
They can do this very efifcctually in two ways : each one in 



THE COMING REVOLUTION. 271 

his own neighborhood, in his immediate circle of personal 
friends and acquaintances, by direct appeals to their under- 
standing, sympathies and interests, and all, in mutual accord, 
through the general newspapers of the country. It is tolly 
to waste money and energy in starting special journals for the 
propagation of new ideas — that is my private opinion. I have 
always found that there are in every city of any consequence 
some newspapers of established circulation, ready enough to 
publish notices and articles, if only they are temperately, and 
especially iveM written— just such comments and appeals as 
we may expect from the class of persons we have in mind — 
force and fire and no froth. But the important thing, always 
to be heeded, about this latter form of agitation, is that it be 
carried on si/stematically. 

This will be work enough for anybody, however zealous : be- 
sides this that minority can do nothing better than — wait with 
patience. 

Wait for what? 

For the natural culmination of the present system, (as to 
which we refer to our third chapter) and for the outburst of 
Passion. 

Passion ? — Yes. We are not indebted to Reason for the land- 
marks of human progress : not for the introduction of Chris- 
tianity, not for the institution of the monastic orders, not 
for the Crusades, not for the Reformation, not for the Ameri- 
can Revolution, not for the abolition of slavery. Man is only 
'irresistible when he acts from passion. We are first to be 
j)hilosophers in order to prepare for and carry oat the Coming 
Revolution, but no walls are now-a-days thrown down by blasts 
of trumpets. The masses of men are never moved except by 
passions, feelings, interest. 

Now it is possible that these passions of our people, or of 
the British people, will be roused by what may transpire on 
the continent of Europe. For we have no doubt that the first 
serious attempt to realize Socialism will be made there. There 
is Germany, where our ideas have reached their highest devel- 
opment both in depth and in breadth, and whose people seem 



272 THE COMING REVOLUTION. 

in the last generation to have modified their former pure re- 
flective ness. Formerly they paused to reflect so mucli, that 
they were slow in action; now they simply make sure before- 
hand of every detail which might make them hesitate in ac- 
tion. 

Then there is France, there is Paris. Not the frivolous de- 
based Paris of the sight-seer, but earnest Paris, for a century 
the heart of the world ; whose victories have been the victories 
ot mankind, her defeats its defeats. 

We know what an excitement the French Revolution of a 
hundred years ago caused in the minds of the people of 
England, and notably among her working men, then in their 
swaddling clothes. Certainlj'-, then, in this age the establish- 
ment of Socialism either in Germany or France would exer- 
cise a tremendous influence both here and in Great Britain. 

If we, the American Nation, are anything, we are practical. 
If we are not apt to originate any new political and social ideas, 
we have a wonderful aptitude for copying the good points of 
successfullj^ working models. We, therefore, think, that it 
might not take very many years — in fact no longer time than 
would be needful to rub our eyes in order to find out whether 
we were really awake — before we should set to work to copy 
that Socialist State. 

But the difficulties in the way of success on the continent 
are so great — the consideration, that even a completely suc- 
cessful revolution in any one of these countries may, on ac- 
count of their geographical position, not prove sufficient to 
insure the stability of the New Social Order, — these diffi- 
culties form such a threatening shadow on the horizon, that 
we cannot but tremble for a possible successful counter-revo- 
lution. 

And then there are really many reasons why either Great Brit- 
ain or our own country — the universal colony — may be consid- 
ered the place where the New Commonwealth will be first suc- 
cessfully established. 

The United States possesses the immense advantage that it 
can safely make the first experiment, without danger of any 
foreign interference. We possess the advantage of being an 



THE COMING REVOLUTION. 273 

eminently practical as well as a thoroughgoing people, when 
we are roused. We have within us the reflectiveness of the 
German as well as the momentum of the Anglo-Saxon, who, if 
he io?7Z6^ to jump across a brook, does not hesitate, but runs 
and clears it with a bound. We furthermore possess for an 
indefinite period — to be determined by the fears and blind 
anger of our masters — the privilege to agitate without restraint 
by pen and tongue and thus educate and organize the effect- 
ive minority. 

Great Britain has the same advantages, and in addition the 
glorious precedent: Cromwell's revolution, "the English 
Commonwealth," the first popular revolt against divine rights^ 
"•vested" rights. In both countries the culmination of the 
economic evolution is nearer than elsewhere, that is, division 
of labor and concentration of wealth are carried further than 
elsewhere, a fact of tremendous importance, and another fact, 
only second in importance, in both countries, is the organiza- 
tion of their workers, the splendid Trades-Unions of England 
and our own Knights of Labor. 

" Socialism is not suited to the genius of our people" we 
have heard some say, as if we had patented a new order of life. 
These Trade-unions, and Trades-assemblies, and Grangers and 
Knights of Labor precisely prove that Socialism is suited to 
the genius of our and the British people. The central spirit 
that rules these unions is that of Socialism, to wit, that the 
interests of all workers are the same, that each must postpone 
his own advantage to the common good and each yield his in- 
dividual prejudice and crochet to the collective judgment. 

Those of the working-classes who become enrolled in our 
effective minority can do no better work than strengthen these 
unions in every possible way. Through them their fellow- 
workers are sure of getting Socialist hearts — the Socialist heads 
will come in due time. And bear in mind, that it is these or- 
ganized labor-battalions that f>re to form the lever by means of 
which the new ideas are to move Society. 

Just on account of these organizations , and because they will 
become invaluable skeletons on the establishment of the New 
Order (as we have emphasized in another place,) we think that 



274 THE COMING EE VOLUTION. 

the United States, but particularly Great Brittain, are nearer 
the realization of Socialism than generally supposed. 

Most Americans remember the rising of the workingmen in 
July 1877. That rising was to all Socialists, also to those who 
held aloof from it, a most promising sign. The first revolt 
of American white slaves against their task-masters ! 

That it was accompanied by excesses by the most neglected 
stratum of Society was unfortunate but unavoidable. This 
stratum is just the worst heritage which capitalism leaves on 
our hand. 

In a very short time we shall have another series of years 
of hard time. Remember what we said about '• Crises " in the 
second chapter. We expect another revolt then, more serious 
than the first. That most likely will also be suppressed with 
comparative ease. 

A few more years elapse. Another ''crisis,'' yet more se- 
vere, shows its liideous head. The screws of distress are turned 
yet more on the wage-workers. Another most serious revolt. 
Possibly powder and shot will suppress that, too. 

But in the fulness of time we shall have a labor revolt that 
will not be put down. Then is the time for the energetic So- 
cialist minority to exert its influence. There is nothing that 
the people in such a crisis hail more than leaders^ nothing they 
hunger and thirst more after than clear-cut, definite solutions. 

All the horrors of the French Revolution and the sad fact 
that Napoleon the First became a necessity were due to the 
circumstance, that the revolution had no leaders. We do not 
mean to say, that that revolution was a failure, for it did ac- 
complish every one of its objects: the abolition of privi- 
leges, the dispossession of the land-owners and free competi- 
tion, but the price paid was exorbitant. 

In our civil war, on the other hand, it was the abolitionists 
that successfully assumed the leadership, and probably exer- 
ted all the influence to which they were entitled. 

That the Socialist minority must do when the crisis comes, 
and make out of a revolt— another revolution. 

Be confident that the people will follow. In such times men 
become awake, shake off nightmares ; the experience of years 



THE COMING REVOLUTION. 275 

is crowded into hours. Novelties whicli at first sight inspire 
dread become in a few days familiar, then endurable, then 
attractive. 

That is one way in which Socialism may be realized. 

Here our mind Is involuntarily directed to a remarkable 
book : TliG Coming Bace, said to be by Bulwer. It represents 
a race, living underground in a great number of small com- 
munities, as having attained to a perfect social state. It may be 
considered an ingenious satire on a Socialist Commonwealth, 
but no matter, it is highly interesting. That which at this 
13oint led our thouglits upon it is a wonderful natural force 
which those people are said to have discovered, which they 
call Vril. It can be stored in a small wand, which rests in the 
hollow of the palm and, when skillfully wielded, can rend 
rocks, remove any natural obstacles, scatter the strongest 
fortress and make the weak a perfect match for any combin- 
ation of number, skill and discipline. No wonder that these 
people attribute their equality, their freedom, felicity and ad- 
vancement to this discovery. 

What if this " Vril " is but a poetic anticipation of the civ- 
ilizing power of that real, energetic substance which we call — 
dynamite ! 

Again, we all have heard of the "anti-monopoly" move- 
ment. That is a war, political and otherwise, of one class of 
fleecers against another class of fleecers ; of industrial and 
mercantile cannibals Mgainst moneyed and corporate cannibals. 
There is no love lost between the two classes just as little as 
between two veritable cannibals. No one can tell to what ex- 
tremities the war between them may not go. But the follow- 
ing correspondence to the New York Sun from Titusville Pa., 
of Nov. 4th 1878, may give iis an idea of possible coming 
events: 

*" The fact is, the State of Pennsylvania has had a narrow 
escape from an internal civil war. Had certain men given the 
word, there would have been an outbreak that contemplated 
the seizure of the railroads and running them, the caj^ture and 
control of the United Pipe Lines property, and in all 
probabiUty the burning of all the property of the Stand- 



276 THE COMING EEVOLUTION. 

ard Oil Company in the region. The men who would have 
done this, and may do it yet, are 7iot laborers or tramps.'''' 

The Coming Eevolution may arise out of a similar struggle 
between our fleecing classes. Revolutions, however, have no 
precedents. The wisest of us may err as much as Ulrich Von 
Hutten did in the days preceding the Keformation. Ulrich 
was far in advance of Luther when the latter took hold of his 
mission. Then he wrote in a letter, still extant, to the effect 
that he heard that a monk had become rebellious. " It de- 
hghts me" he wrote in substance, "to hear of a rebellion in 
the bosom of Holy Mother Church. How I wish the two par-, 
ties may tear each other to pieces ! " Yet it was just Luther 
and not the clear-sighted nobleman whom the logic of events 
selected as its organ. 

Just as impossible it is to say, when we may expect the Com- 
ing Revolution. But it is worth reflecting on, that a prudent 
man in 1853 would hardly have taken upon himself to foretell 
the abolition of slavery in 1863. 

But the Great Change is coming. 

In the words of Carlyle : 

'' Will not one French Revolution suffice, or must there be 
two? There will be two if needed; there will be twenty if 
needed; there will he just as many as needed.'''' 

When the Cooperative Commonwealth is achieved, there 
will be no room for any more revolutions. For revolutions 
are caused by the clashings of class-interests, and all class- 
distinctions are forever abolished the moment the lowest class 
is fully incorporated into Society. 

But there will be plenty of room for progress, for further 
evolution. Even our Commonwealth, though it may take a 
long period to develop it, is but a step of the evolution. One 
Commonwealth after another may decay and disappear, but 
they will all contribute to the upbuilding of the Organism of 
Humanity. 

With Organized Humanity will be evolved the Coming Re- 
ligion, though we already noticed it in the preceding chapter, 
because people persist in mixing up morals and religion. But 



THE COMING REVOLUTION. 277 

morals reiilly relates to the social organism : it malces the good 
citizen. Religion relates to Humanity and makes the saint. 
The Coming Religion will make us feel that we are here for 
the sake of Humanity, with whose fate it may be found that 
we are personally far more concerned than is now supposed; 
it will make holiness consist in identifying ourselves with Hu- 
manity — the redeemed form of man — as the lover merges him- 
self in the beloved. Individualism : the deception that we 
have been born into this world each for the sake of himself, 
or family, friend or kindred, Selfness^ will be acknowledged to 
be the satauic element of our nature. 

We therefore more than doubt, we deny Ward's proposition 
that individual happiness is the end of human life. If it is, 
the existences that were made miserable in order that man- 
kind might be trained up to Social-Cooperation were failures ; 
they are decidedly not failures, if, as we hold, the end of 
the individual existence is to further the evolution of Human- 
ity, in whose fate it may be found, as we repeat, that we have 
a greater stake than is supposed. But happiness is a /ac^; as 
an incident ot life and not an object of pursuit, it is a bless- 
ed fact. It is to man what the odor is to the rose. 

That the New Commonwealth will very much diffuse and 
increase individual happiness there can be no doubt. It will 
make possible the harmonious exercise and development of 
all human faculties in everybody — that itself is happiness. 
It will, by banishing care and giving leisure, enable everyone 
to become familiar with all that is known about the universe 
and to explore its perpetual wonders and pore over its num- 
berless riddles for himself — and that is more than happiness, 
it is rapture. Finally, it will be the grandest vehicle for serv- 
ing Humanity and thereby generate the purest happiness, per- 
fect bliss. 

But this bliss it is even now our privilege to obtain. We 
have the choice to live as Individualists and on our deathbed 
look back in despair on a dreary, hateful life of play-acting, 
or as Socialists fill our existences with those serious moods 
that make the grand tone of life, and in the hour of death 
stand on the mountain-top, as it were, and see with entranced 



278 THE COMING REVOLUTION. 

eyes the rays of the Sun that soon will illumine the dark valleys 
below. I, for my part, deem it worth ten crucifixions to win 
for my memory a fraction of the adoring love which millions 
of the noblest men and women have felt for a Jesus. 



THE END. 



TROPHIES OF TRAVEL. 



DRIFTING ROUND THE WORLD ; A Boy's Adven- 
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EDWARD GREEY'S JAPANESE SERIES. 
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A SUMMER IN THE AZORES, with a Glimpse of Ma- 
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ENGLAND FROM A BACK 'WINDO^W ; With Views 
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OUT-DOOR PAPERS. 16mo. $1.50. 

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ARMY LIFE IN A BLACK REGIMENT. 16mo. $1.50. 

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Thomas Wentworth Higginson. If one of its short chapters could be 
read aloud every day during the year, in the milUons of homes in the 
land, its power for good could scarcely be overestimated." — Chicago 
Inter-Ocean. 

YOUNG FOLKS' HISTORY OF THE UNITED 

STATES. Square 16mo. With maps and over 100 illustrations. 

$1.50. 
"This book is for American youth what Dickens's 'History of Eng- 
land ' is for the children of our cousins beyond the sea. Like it, it is so 
clear and charmingly written, that it is scarcely fair to call it a ' Young 
Folks' History ; ' for we are sure that the old as well as the young will 
read it. Members of the C. L. vS. C. may take it, instead of the book re- 
quired, if they so desire." — J. H. Vincent, D.D., President Chautauqua 
Literary and Scientific Circle. 

YOUNG POLKS' BOOK OF AMERICAN EXPLOR- 
ERS. Illustrated. 16mo. $1.50. 
SHORT STUDIES OP AMERICAN AUTHORS. Small 

quarto. 50 cents. 
WENDELL PHILLIPS. Contributed to " The Nation » by T. 
W. Higginson. 4to. Paper. 25 cents. 



Sold by all booksellers, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price. 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 



HARRY W. FRENCH'S BOOKS. 



THE ONLY ONE. A Novel. 16mo. Cloth. $1.00. 

"The Only One" is a powerful story, dealing with the lights and 
shadows of life in America, Naples, and Persia. Written in a dashing 
style, sometimes deeply tragic, at others humorous in the extreme, it 
presents pictures of human life that attract and interest by their natural- 
ness and vividness. 

CASTLE FOAM; or, The Pauper Prince. A story of real 
life, true love, and intrigue in the brilliant capital of Prussia. 
12mo. $1.50. 

** A novel of remarkable power, and strangely unlike any yet written 
by an American. There is something in the beauty and intensity of 
expression that reminds one of Bulwer in his best days." — Cincimiati 
Commercial. 
NUNA, THE BRAMIN GIRL. 16mo. Cloth. $1.25. 

" This book is beautifully written, and abounds in novel and dramatic 
incidents." — St. Louis Globe Democrat. 

EGO, The Life Struggles of Lawrence Edwards. l6mo. 

Cloth. $1.00. 
"Both an interesting and an exciting work, written with freedom, 
effectiveness, and power." — Pldladelphia Item. 

GEMS OP GENIUS. 4to. Illuminated covers. Gilt. $2.00. 

" Fifty full-page illustrations, selected from the art- works of as many 
foreign painters, with text descriptive of each, from the pen of one of 
our native Ruskins." — New - York Mail. 

ART AND ARTISTS. A history of the birth of art in America, 
with biographical studies of many prominent American artists, and 
nearly one hundred illus. from their studios. Cloth. Gilt. $3.00. 

"A work that will grow in value every year, showing the most patient 
research and elaboration, skilfully executed, and admirably worked up. 
An honor to the author, an honor to the publishers, an honor to the 
country." — New - ForA; Evening Post. 

OUR BOYS IN INDIA. The wanderings of two young Americans 

in Hindustan, with their exciting adventures on the sacred rivers 

and wild mountains. With 145 illustrations. Royal octavo, 7 x 9| 

inches. Bound in emblematical covers of Oriental design, $1.75. 

Cloth, black and gold, $2.50. 

A new edition of the most popular of books of travel for young folks, 

issued last season. While it has all the exciting interest of a romance, 

it is remarkably vivid in its pictures of manners and customs in the land 

of the Hindu. The illustrations are many and excellent. 

OUR BOYS IN CHINA. The adventures of two young Ameri- 
cans, wrecked in the China Sea on their return from India, with 
their strange wanderings through the Chinese Empire. 188 Illus- 
trations. Boards, ornamental covers in colors and gold, $1.75. 
Cloth, $2.50. 
After successfully starting the young heroes of his previous book, 
" Our Boys in India," on their homeward trip, the popular lecturer, 
extensive traveller, and remarkable story-teller, has them wrecked in the 
China Sea, saved, and transported across China ; giving him an opportu- 
nity to spread for young folks an appetizing feast of good things. 



Sold by all booksellers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price. 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 



J. T. TROWBRIDGE'S NOVELS, 



NE'W UNIFORM EDITION. 



CUDJO'S CAVE. 

Like "Uncle Tom's Cabin," this thrilling story was a stimulating 
power in the civil war, and had an immense sale. Secretary Chase, of 
President Lincoln's cabinet, said of it, " I could not help reading it : it 
interested and impressed me profoundly." 

THE THREE SCOUTS. 

Another popular book of the same stamp, of which *' The Boston Tran- 
script" said, "It promises to have a larger sale than 'Cudjo's Cave.' 
It is impossible to open the volume at any page without being struck by 
the quick movement and pervading anecdote of the story." 

THE DRUMMER BOY. 

A Story of Burnside's Expedition. Illustrated by F. O. C. Dablet. 

" The most popular book of the season. It will sell without pushing." 
— Zion^s Herald. 

MARTIN MERRIVALE: His X Mark. 

" Strong in humor, pathos, and unabated interest. In none of the books 
issued from the American press can there be found a purer or more deli- 
cate sentiment, a more geuiiine good taste, or a nicer appreciation and 
brighter delineation of character." — English Journal. 

NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 

A story of New-England life in the slave-tracking days. Dramatized 
for the Boston Museum, it had a long run to crowded houses. The story 
is one of Trowbridge's very best. 

COUPON BONDS, and other Stories. 

The leading story is undoubtedlj- the most popular of Trowbridge's 
short stories. The others are varied in character, but are either intensely 
interesting or " highly amusing." 

NEIGHBORS' WIVES. 

An ingenious and well-told story. Two neighbors' wives are tempted 
beyond their strength to resist, and et^al each from the other. One is 
discovered in the act, under ludicrous and humiliating circumstances, 
but is generously pardoned, with a promise of secrecy. Of course she 
betrays her secret, and of course perplexities come. It is a capital story. 

12mo. Cloth. P?'ice per volume, §1.60. 



Sold by all booksellers and neicsdealers, and sent by mail, 
on receipt of price. 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 








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